


Later Days and Better Lays

by UsernameOK



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, Child Neglect, Coming of Age, Drama, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, F/M, Fantasizing, Friendship, High School, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Major Original Character(s), Masturbation, Minor Original Character(s), Older Woman/Younger Man, Older Woman/Younger Woman, One-Sided Attraction, Possessive Behavior, Rape Fantasy, Rock and Roll, Scent Kink, Self-Harm, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, Unrequited Love, Unrequited Lust, Yandere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-01-03 20:26:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 27
Words: 105,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12154170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UsernameOK/pseuds/UsernameOK
Summary: When life manages to be both a roller coaster and a teacup ride simultaneously. J. D. does what he can to shake things up. Whether anyone wants him to or not.one-sided J. D./OC, one-sided Heather/OC AU





	1. You Might be Alright

“Veronica, you won’t believe what happened!”

J. D. didn’t look up at the sudden shouting in the cafeteria, opting to keep his head buried in his book and just half listen.

“Oh hey Martha.” the girl who he presumed was Veronica said; her tone suggested she was weary. He commended her for not getting irritated with her friend who was practically bursting with so much excitement it was cringe worthy.

“The Heathers-” Martha sat down at the table beside her friend and lowered her voice so only the other rejects would hear whatever news she was desperate to tell. J. D. kept his seat at the end, though he knew he wasn’t even sitting with them per say. He didn’t know any of them, but experience told him these were the kids who were least likely to give him grief for coping a squat.

Veronica kept half her attention on her own book and a sheet of paper as she took notes; everything about her screamed studious. A reject with drive; he could respect that. Too bad there wasn’t any point in getting to know her. Or really any of them.

“They all got a week of detention from Mrs. Fleming.” Martha stage whispered. “She found them in the bathroom out of class without a hall pass.”

“Wow, the Heather’s getting held to the rest of the lowly public’s rules?” Veronica said dully as she gave her friend a half smile. “That is news.”

“Do you think they’ll actually serve it out?” Martha wondered curiously. “I mean, even the teachers don’t bother them….I get chewed out for writing too loudly.” she sighed and swiped a fry in a glop of ketchup, her sizeable chin bobbing up and down as she ate.

“I doubt it, but I guess anything’s possible.” Veronica sighed once more. “I know Mrs. Fleming sounded really smug when she told them. Bet you anything she’s been waiting for an opportunity to bust them.”

“How did you know?”

“I was just leaving the bathroom.” Veronica shrugged. “I had a pass though.”

“Lucky she didn’t get you too.” Martha smiled. “We have our movie date after school!”

“Yeah. I almost wanted to step in and say something, but," Veronica chewed on the end of her pencil.

“Veronica, tell me you weren’t thinking of…” Martha looked around, but at this point no one else was really listening, too absorbed in their own conversations. “You know, forging their names on your pass? It’s not worth it.”

J. D. himself had the pleasure of only making the acquaintance of one Heather in a previous class and he wasn’t looking forward to meeting the other two. Needless to say, as he scanned his book and kept his mouth shut, he couldn’t help silently agree with Martha.

“No, I know, I didn’t. I was thinking if I did them a favor, maybe they’d owe me,” Veronica explained. “But come on, they’d think it was something owed to them. Besides, if Mrs. Phelgming saw through me, I’d get in trouble and I am not compromising my freedom for them.”

Martha nodded. “I’m glad. It’s not worth getting detention.”

“Not even just that Martha. What if it went on my record? Once this year is done, I’m out of here. If I’m lucky, I’ll be in a university a few thousand light-years away from this dump.” Veronica told her bitterly. “I mean it, if anything gets in the way of me and an acceptance letter, I will flip my shit and torch this place to the ground.”

J. D. paused to think; not a bad idea at all.

“Veronica...you’ll come visit though now and then right?” Martha made imprints in the soggy mash potatoes with her fork. “I was going to stay in state; it’s my best option. I’m not as smart as you...I couldn’t go to Duke or Harvard or anything.”

“Martha, that’s crazy. Your grades are just as good as mine and you’ve done more extracurricular crap. Willingly.” Veronica added; her cynical smile softened as she looked over her friend’s doubtful frown. “Look, if by some sick twist of fate you don’t at least get to the border of Ohio, of course I’ll keep in touch. Letters, calls, and visits.”

“Oh, but you’ll probably be busy getting settled...you’ll probably way more popular and make all these friends and have a whole new life.” Martha quickly smiled. “And I’d be happy for you. But, at least promise you won’t forget about me? Even if you’re studying abroad in Spain or France or something, you’ll still save me a croissant?”

Veronica laughed. It was a nice laugh. “Are you kidding me? You’re my best friend. You’ve been the only thing bearable about coming here everyday; I wouldn’t leave you alone in this hell hole of a town.”

Martha smiled tentatively.

“And you know what? When we’re business savvy, successful, self made women of sophistication,” Veronica grinned teasingly. “I’ll make sure we find time to go on girl’s only trips. If we’re married, no husbands, no kids, just two freewheeling bitches on the town. You’ll see, this place isn’t everything. We’ll survive.”

Martha smiled brightly. “You’re right.” she sighed a little and rested her chin in her hand. “It’s too bad though, isn’t it? I mean, what the heck happened to us?”

J. D. wanted to laugh. _“What always happens ladies...just be glad you only have one year left in one school dealing with the same brand of assholes.”_

“I don’t know. It’s like the older we get, the worse we get. Look at adults. Have you seen a bigger bunch of apathetic jerks, oblivious to everything that isn’t affecting them? That’s us someday.”

Martha shook her head. “No way. You’re still nice. And I think I’m still nice…”

“Not even. You’re a saint compared to the dicks we have to see every day.”

“Not every day. Weekends are free!”

“Yeah, if they’re not monopolizing the best hang outs like mall-maggots. And then they’ll grow up, work at the gas stations and the Denny’s and they’ll be pathetic, but just as big of jerkoffs, only balder and fatter.” Veronica rolled her eyes. “Face it, we won’t be able to get away from them if we stick around here. This town’s too small.”

“You’re too pessimistic!” Martha nudged Veronica with her elbow. “Come on, it won’t be that bad. Even now isn’t too bad; it could be worse.”

“Yeah, I hear you.”

J. D. didn’t continue to listen as they began talking about colleges.

“ _It could be worse, but it’s already shit.”_ he flipped to the next page and found he had lost his place.

He was envious; after all, maybe their twelve consecutive years of attending public school with the same posers and skanks and scumbags and generally impossibly awful people was hell, but at least they were surviving the hell together. They had a place, their own little niche. They had time.

He had six weeks top, eight if his dad was feeling lazy. Granted, it was the same variety of hell, the same pattern, pretty much every single school; the only thing he had working for him was experience. It was like his life was on loop despite his address constantly changing.

 _“Well, cheers to them.”_ J. D. thought as he closed his book and headed to his next class; on the plus side, no one had really done anything to mess with him as of yet. J. D. knew he’d be peachy just moving along like a ghost, tolerating the attempts to educate him, and generally being anonymous.

And so the day came to an end and he found himself free to wander around his new environment; J. D. couldn’t help compare it to being a new animal introduced to the zoo, and he wasn’t even referring to high school specifically. Each town was oddly similar when a person stopped to look. Or not look.

A town hall, a dingy bar, a greasy spoon, a library, the commonplace stores and fast food chains, and a string of subpar public schools and some nicer ones more geared to helping the youth leave to move on to better things. On that note, most towns had the haves and the have nots, even if there was a marginal difference in status and wealth, god forbid it not be acknowledged and picked up on and inserted into the minds of each person.

But he couldn’t care less. It was hard to be concerned when J. D. knew it was all temporary. And besides, there was only one place he was concerned with as he sped through the unfamiliar streets on his motorbike, head swiveling this way and that to find it, that one single chain of establishments, a single paradise of junk food and stained, sticky tile floors and whirring snack machines and dead eyed employees.

J. D. breathed in the smell of a new 7-Eleven and stood for a moment to take it in with his eyes. And then he found himself taking in the sounds of an electric guitar, a catchy drum bat, and the almost lazy, yet somehow energetic voice of Billy Joel and a less refined one harmonizing along.

“You may be right, I may be crazy-”

The young woman, who he assumed was typically behind the counter, was turning up the volume on the portable radio as she swept the floor, using the handle like a mic, and then a guitar as the saxophone solo came up.

“Hey! But it just may be a lunatic you’re lookin’ for~!”

J. D. briefly thought of silently sneaking past her to the nearest aisle to save her embarrassment, but then again, where’s the fun in that?

“Excuse me?” he lightly tapped on her shoulder; he could see both her shoulders hunch as she jumped.

“Oh!” the woman’s look of surprise melted to a relieved laugh. “Sorry, you startled me. It’s been dead in here all day, and whenever I hear this song I get too amped up to sit still.”

“Pardon me for the intrusion.” J. D. offered a smile. “But I was wondering where the slushie machine is?”

“Oh, let me show you.” the woman said as she leaned the broom against the side of a rack of candy. “It’s in the back, around the corner- real smart place to put the thing we sell the most of, right?”

“Choice.” J. D. felt what he assumed was the warmth of falling in love all over again as the dispenser came into sight.

“A bad choice.” she laughed; her steps were still bouncing in time to the remainder of the beat. “Hey, are you new in town?”

“Observant. Or is it obvious?”

“Oh, it’s a small town. Most of the kids already know where everything is.” she told him as she took a second to tidy up the row of overpriced sunglasses hanging in pairs; her eyes glanced over her wristwatch. “In fact, I bet you’re from Westerberg High. It’s about that time they start pouring out of the school.”

“That would be correct.”

“Oh shit. So you’re a new kid huh?”

“That would also be correct.” J. D. said with a smile that he hoped meant he wasn’t in the mood for more inquiries of whether he was making friends or getting lost or where he had come from.

“Welcome. Tell you what, first slushie is free.” the woman patted the top of the machine. “Call it my thanks for not bursting out laughing at that little spectacle back there.”

“That wasn’t intentional? Here I thought all 7-Eleven’s provided an amateur night.”

The woman cackled. “You’ve got jokes too. Yeah, I can tell, you’ll be fine.”

J. D. watched as she made her way back to the broom and picked up a dustpan to get the pile of dust and crumbs; if only she knew. He helped himself to a cup and looked down the row of flavors.

 _“I’m thinking….cherry. No, lemon. A toast to the end of summer and the start of a new year. Or half year most likely.”_ J. D. pressed down on the button and watched the half melted ice fall into the cup. He frowned slightly once it was full; chances were the days would fluctuate between hot and chilly. _“Maybe I should have gone with cherry.”_

When he made his way back down the aisle to the counter, the woman was behind the counter and looking at him strangely.

“Earth to-” J. D. glanced down at her nametag. “Mel?”

“Short for Melanie.” she smiled dryly at his raised brow. “I had a choice on what they could print. And sorry, was I staring at you?”

“Yes indeed, but something tells me I can’t be that fascinating.”

Mel laughed sheepishly. “Sorry about that, I spaced out. Is that all you wanted?”

“Yep.” J. D. said.

“Alrighty. Now get out.” Mel tried to snarl, but she erupted into a giggle a second after saying it. J. D. must have looked hesitant because she resumed a more serious expression. “Don’t worry, I won’t get in trouble for a freebie. I’m the first person who’s worked here that hasn’t slipped some money from the register into their pockets, so I get some more leeway.”

J. D. smiled. “And so you decide to share the wealth with the strange drifter?”

“Drifter? What, not staying long?”

“Nah. But who knows? We must expect the unexpected. Maybe I’ll try to stick around if the slushies here are as good as they look.”

“They’re all the same wherever.” Mel laughed.

“You don’t say?”

“I did. Didn’t you hear me?” Mindy gave him a confused look before letting out another cackle. “Sorry, don’t mind me, you go a little cuckoo when you work here long enough.”

J. D. took a sip of his drink. “So, I know social etiquette dictates I refrain from making certain assumptions, so I’ll ask now; would you be offended if I wanted to know how old you were?”

“Not at all. Why, how old do I look?” Mel leaned over slightly and cocked her head to side with a winning grin.

J. D. leaned forward on his elbow. “Well, from the comment you made earlier concerning kids like me and the fact you seem to be working here during school hours, you’re definitely not a high schooler.”

Mel nodded. “And do I look it?”

“Of the top of my head? I’d guess seventeen.”

Mel looked surprised. “Wow, that’s older than usual. But no, you’re off by six years.”

“Then if my math classes have served me well, that’d make you….twenty three?”

“Yup. You’re better than me, I’d need to use my fingers to count.” Mel gave him a strange look as J. D. proceeded to practically chug down his slushie with through the straw. “Whoa, careful kid, you’ll get brain freeze and then you’ll have to use your fingers like me.”

“Hey, I’m no kid.” J. D. smiled around the straw, teeth clamped on the end. “I'll soon be of legal age ma’am, free to join the army, the navy, the list of fatalities in automobile accidents, become a high school drop out, all that good stuff.”

Mel chuckled. “Then drink responsibly and stay in school. Gotta be careful; adults tend to make the biggest screws up you know.”

J. D. opened his mouth to ask another question, but thought better. “Well, much obliged,” he raised his cup to her. “Hope the next time we meet you’re not in a straight-jacket.”

“As long as no one takes my tunes away, I think I can survive.” Mel said as she patted her radio.  

“My regards to Mister Joel.” J. D. flashed the devil horns and left her laughing behind the counter as she checked inventory; he leaned up against his bike and began downing the rest of his slushie. The throbbing in his head coupled with the rush of wind from his speeding motorbike was more than welcome as he made his way to the place he slept and ate. Using the term ‘home’ would be stretching the truth. He smiled despite the pain; he only had so long to relish in the distractions, might as well make the most of it.

_“Now the only question left is how do I survive?”_


	2. We're Halfway There

“Are you drunk?”

“Hardly.”

There was a tense sort of silence; Mel tapped her fingers on the side of the wooden panel the phone was secured to. She smiled wryly at the scratched in graffiti; the owner thought it was artistic.

“You sound drunk.”

“Gary, I am not drunk.”

“Heard from Sheila you were over at her bar tonight.”

Mel cursed silently. “Okay, but I had, like, two drinks. Four tops.”

A groan. “For the love of god-you realize I still want you to come in tomorrow?”

“Of course, I didn’t drink that much; besides, my shift isn’t until noon.” Mel sent over a glare at what was once her favorite dive bar. “I can’t believe that Sheila ratting me out.”

“Hey, I asked her if you were there. And you should be grateful she worries.”

“I know...I know.” Mel ran a hand through her tousled hair. “Gary, I was just having some fun, I swear I’m not completely wasted. Did she tell you how I totally aced karaoke night?”

Gary sucked his teeth. “That’s not what I’m thinking about right now. It’s getting late and I want you to get home.”

“Fine, I was gonna book it anyway, the next guy can’t sing for shit and he’s trashing Journey.” Mel winced; she could hear the off note belting from the other side of the room. “Damn, now that guy’s ready for the drunk tank.”

“Do you need a ride?” Gary brushed off her attempt to deride the subject.

“No, I’m good.” Mel said with a dramatic sigh. “I don’t live that far.”

“You go straight home.”

“Okay, take a pill Gary.” Mel tried to sound exasperated but it just came out as fond; she really wanted to be irritated, but it was hard. “I promise, I’ll go straight home, drink lots of water, and keep my knife in my hand.”

“You do that. I’ll see you tomorrow and if you’re not at work on time, I’m busting into your house.”

“Thank you Gary. See you tomorrow.”

“Night.”

Mel hung up the phone and sighed; she looked over the room. It really wasn’t that late, not for a Friday night, but she knew that since Sheila had to leave early, Gary didn’t feel so good about her staying longer.

_“Shoot, I don’t see why not.”_

Mel looked over the rowdy group; the loners and people who wanted to get drunk in peace sat along the bar’s farthest corners or near the TVs so they could look preoccupied; people looking for someone to take home were more in the middle or conversing with the bartenders to look sociable. She and everyone else were sitting around tables surrounding the dance floor and the karaoke stage; it was a lot safer than other bars she visited from time to time, but even so, she supposed you never quite knew for sure what night the odd weirdo or rapist or serial killer would show up and take advantage of a person’s altered senses.

“Hey Laney, you want another Budweiser or you going for something new?”

Mel shook her head at one of the regulars. “Sorry Tim, gotta motor. Work tomorrow.”

“Aw come on!” he was already handing over Sheila a few tens. “At least sing one more song, it’s barely nine.”

“It’s ten thirty you louse.” Sheila grabbed the cash and began taking out bottles. “Mel, you go on.”

“I know, Gary gave me the 411.” Mel smiled at her sardonically as she helped steady Tim, who was swaying on the barstool.

Sheila paused and kept her face turned away as she twirled a finger in one of her curls. “I’m...sorry, Mel, I know ya wanted to get out, but I’m going to be leaving soon and I’d just feel better if I was here if you’re going to be here-”

“I get you Sheila, I do. I had my fun anyway.”

“Livin’ on a prayer~!”

“Tim, can it.” Mel pushed him off; she liked to think she was able to from raw strength alone, but it didn’t help her buddy was incapacitated. “Sheila, tell me I never looked this bad drunk.”

“No sweetie, not usually.” Sheila said absently as she served up three more food menus. “Get some sleep, okay?”

“Okay, night Sheila.”

“Yep. And don’t forget, I need you in here on the noon rush for Monday and Wednesday.”

Mel frowned. “Did that fucking Danny say he was out sick again? He’s been blowing off his shifts all last week too.”

“No, he didn’t call in, I gave him the boot. Too many excuses and lazy besides.”

“That guy was a legit bum. You should’ve tossed him a month ago.”

“Anyway,” Sheila said with a half smile. “I’ll call Gary to make sure you made it home. Drink water.”

Mel sent her one last smile before walking out the door and into the open air.

_“Damn it’s warm for September…”_

Her house was not even a thirty minute walk away from the Sheila’s, which was convenient; the overall mood of the place was casual and fun. Everyone knew someone and if they didn’t, it wasn’t a big deal. But that was also the drawback.

“ _I should’ve known Gary would call Sheila...next time I’m not telling him which bar I’m going for.”_

Mel loved Sheila’s. In fact, she loved the bar’s namesake and her worry wart husband who also happened to be her other employer.

It was sheer dumb luck she found them; one night, alone and wandering and not knowing where to go that was open that late with a phone or a bathroom. At the time she was underage, but she wasn’t looking for a drink, just a place to stop and rest; Sheila had given her a cup of water and a plate of wings on the house. Five hours later, Mel was still there, the wings were no more than bones, and she had ended up spilling her guts to the kind woman. The rest was history and she was grateful for them being in her life.

Mel sighed and looked alert as she walked through the neighborhood. _“I just need to have a good time without anyone bugging out...next time I’m going to the one across town, the cab will be worth it.”_

Still, she couldn’t say she wasn’t touched and feeling the warm fuzzies.

 _“Or is that the rum and Coke...?”_ Mel squinted her eyes, looking ahead; she was only halfway to her house, but there was a hobo sitting on the bus stop bench smoking a cigarette. _“Damn it all, please be a tired, sober guy just waiting for a lift and not someone to jack.”_

The smoke floated up through the muggy air; Mel was wearing relatively light clothes and she didn’t know how this man was wearing the overcoat without having a stroke. She was a foot away from him, hand in her pocket and clutched around her swiss blade, just in case.

“Hey, if it isn’t Melanie.”

Mel was just about to pass the hunched over man, who up close and looking directly at, was actually a boy.

“Oh, hi!” she blinked several times. “Geez kid, sorry, I didn’t recognize you.”

“I have that kind of face.” J. D. smiled slowly as he let smoke blow out his nostrils. Mel wasn’t amused.

“Kid, what are you doing out here? Don’t you have a curfew?” Mel looked around. “Do you live around here? ‘Cause if you’re trying to ride home, the buses just stopped running for the night.”

“I was just out for a stroll. It’s so peaceful out, calming. Looks like you had a fun night.” J. D. took in the state of her clothes and hair. “Coming from a boyfriend’s?”

“What? Oh no, I just came from Sheila’s-local bar I work at part time.” Mel explained; she forgot a kid who was new to the area, not to mention not legally permitted to drink, wouldn’t know what she was talking about. “It’s a radical time, dancing and karaoke. Do I look like I was up to something else?” she smiled teasingly.

“You look amped, that’s for sure.”

Mel’s smile faltered and she took a closer look at his face. “You look like you got socked in the mouth...did you get in a fight after school?”

“Do I look like I was up to something else?”

She ignored his easy smile. “You don’t live around here, do you? You may think I’m being nosey, but you get this looks bad, right?”

“I can relate.” J. D. stubbed out his cigarette under his shoe. “And no, my neighborhood is an hour away from here on foot.”

Mel didn’t ask how he knew that. “And...I take it you’re not visiting a relative or going to a friend’s place? Shit, what am I saying, you just got here...look, you don’t have to tell me why, but I need to know a few things.”

J. D. stared up at her. “What would those things be ma’am?”

Mel met his stare. “That busted lip isn’t from some teenage fist fight is it?”

J. D. shook his head, but his eyes didn’t waver from hers; it was like he was trying to dare her to keep asking questions he knew she might not really want to hear the answers to. Part of her didn’t; right now all she wanted to do was go home, drink some water, and get in bed to sleep of the lightheadedness and slight headache already coming on.

“And, I take it you don’t have anywhere to stay for the night?”

J. D. raised his hands. “Ladies and gentleman, we have a winner! Your grand prize includes one runaway and a whole bundle of issues you aren’t prepared to deal with.”

“Well, I could take you with me back to Sheila’s, call the police, and have them take you home to your parents.”

“Parent. Mom’s dead.”

Mel felt a knot in her stomach; she didn’t feel shocked exactly at how easily he told her. It was more like grief and pity.

“I hate to make assumptions, but I’m guessing that lip is why you ran off?”

J. D. just matched her gaze with a half smirk; his eyes unnerved her. They were so dull compared to his voice and mannerisms and facial expressions.

Mel sighed and bit her lip. “I’m not leaving you out here alone. Have you eaten anything?”

Fifteen minutes later J. D. was slumped on her couch as Mel reheated a container of chicken lomein from the other night.

“You can’t live on slushies kid.” she said as she handed him a fork and the bowl she poured the noodles in. To her surprise, he was digging in as soon as she handed him the food. “Christ, don’t tell me your dad doesn’t feed you?”

Kids who went to Westberg High typically came from some sort of money or at the very least lived in relative comfort.

“It’s good.” J. D. scarfed down the lomein. “Dad and me don’t cook much.”

“What do you eat?”

“Whatever, whenever.”

Mel put a hand to her face. “Good lord, I just realized I kidnapped you.”

“Hm?”

“How old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

“Kid, if the cops know you’re here-oh shit, your dad probably called a missing kid report! Shit.” Mel cursed lowly. “I didn’t even think….I can be charged as a kidnapper!”

J. D. snorted. “No you won’t.”

“Yes, I will! You’re underage, I should have found a way to send you home or called your dad or the cops, oh dammit it all Mel, look what you got yourself into….”

While she paced back and forth, J. D. watched in amusement as he slurped his noodles.

“Look, Mel, you don’t have anything to worry about.” J. D. put his bowl on the table. “My dad isn’t filing any report. He’s passed out dead drunk and even if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t care. As long as I don’t squeal and tell the cops, who aren’t coming, about you having me stay, you’re in the clear.”

Mel stopped. “What?”

“You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“No, what the hell did you say?”

J. D. felt his smile give way to a frown. “What?”

“He didn’t call the cops?! You could be anywhere right now! Dead in a ditch, run over, lost, mugged-” Mel hugged herself; she couldn’t seem to make sense of it all. “Are you saying if he was up and knew you were gone, he wouldn’t do anything? Nothing?”

J. D. shrugged and Mel nodded vaguely.

“You don’t say…”

“So, hate to take advantage of hospitality, but I don’t suppose you have anywhere I can sleep?”  
“Yes...oh yeah, you can take the bed tonight. If you don’t mind, I’d like to be near the front door in case you try to run off in the middle of the night. Maybe your dad is fine with letting you roam around, but you’re here now, and I’m sure as shit not going to risk you getting killed in a hit and run-sorry.” she stopped herself. “You must be tired.”

“Eh.”

Mel took one look at him and laughed; she kept smiling in a strained, half dazed sort of way as she pushed her hair off her forehead.

“What in the fuck….what in the actual fuck did I get myself into?” Mel looked back at J. D., who was sitting comfortably as he witnessed her break down. “No offense to you kid, this isn’t your fault but….holy shit, this is warped…wait, what about school? Do you need bus fare? And your books, you don’t have them-”

“Does Sherwood have school on Saturdays?”

Mel blinked and let out another hiccup of a laugh. “No. Oh boy, sorry, I’m still half drunk and wondering if this is a hallucination of being an accidental kidnapper....this is primo outrageous shit right here…”

“Shit happens.”

Mel nodded. “Yeah...oh god, sorry. Here I am bugging out and you’re the one who was going to spend the night out on a bus bench.”

“I would’ve gone back in the morning or so.”

“Back?” Mel looked horrified. “Are you serious? You can’t go back!”

“I didn’t leave because I was scared ma’am.” J. D. smiled wryly. “But I didn’t need my old man hassling me. Anyway, I’m not defenseless you know. I popped him a few good ones that helped him pass out in the first place.”

“Oh.” Mel shook her head quickly. “No, not just ‘oh’! You shouldn’t have to fend him off or escape your own house! Isn’t there anyone you can go to? Isn’t there one relative close by? You could visit them, stay over-”

“No can do. They’re all out of state. My old man’s kin isn’t much better than him and my mom’s hate him for driving her off the deep end.” J. D. just stared impassively at her incredulous face. “You are most definitely freaked.”

“No shit.” Mel mumbled. “Well...I can’t tell you what to do, but do me a solid and stay here, just for the night? I couldn’t sleep knowing you’re out there.”

J. D. blinked and Mel sighed heavily.

“Come on, let me show you the bathroom.”

She led him down a short hallway to a tiny bathroom with a shower and a toilet and a sink sort of scrunched up together in what looked more like a cubicle than anything else. The room was more spacious, but it was clearly only meant for one person; it was clean at least.

“Here’s an extra blanket,” Mel took a neatly folded quilt from the closet. “And if it’s too hot just throw it off. If you need anything, just wake me up, and if I’m still asleep when you leave in the morning, wake me up, okay?”

“Did you make this? Looks homemade.” J. D. took the quilt and shook it out; it was designed with pink and white patches and designed with hearts and loops. “Wow, pastel city.”

“My grandma made it.” Mel smiled a little. “Well, I guess that’s it...are you still hungry?”

J. D. shook his head. “I do have a favor to ask.”

“What?”

“Don’t tell anyone about this. Any of it. It’d be a bit of a hassle for me.” J. D. gave her a cocked sort of smile. “See, once I’m eighteen and graduated, I’ll be able to start over. You didn’t think I’d stick around with that mess?”

“No, but...what about now?”

He shrugged off his coat. “Sleep. You should probably hit the hay too Mel. And thanks again.”

“Sure, I’m mostly over the shock...oh.” Mel was halfway out the door. “What is your name?”  
J. D. chuckled as he folded up his duster. “Jason Dean, at your service.”

“Jason.” Mel repeated; she smiled suddenly. “I love that name.”

J. D. didn’t have a response, so he sat down on the edge of the bed and just smiled.

“Well, I hope...I mean, you seem like you’re handling this all very well, way better than my spazz attack....” Mel told him as she scratched her throbbing head.

"Anyhow....please, promise you’ll wake me up before you go? I don’t care if it’s in the morning or not, just whenever.”

“Can do.” he saluted her.

Mel nodded and offered a smile. “Goodnight then.”

Once he heard her footsteps go down to the living room, J. D. kicked off his boots and laid back on the bed. Lumpy and sunken in, it still felt twice as comfortable than his.

_“Definitely not in Kansas anymore….or Boston...or Vegas.”_

He looked at the quilt; not his style, but it felt soft; he sighed and took a look around the room. It was tidy, but lived in. Most of the furniture looked old and used; the carpet was worn and the walls needed a fresh coat of paint. The closet had clothes hung and folded and tossed to the floor. A cotton bra hung by the straps on a wire hanger. There was a small TV positioned on a small bookcase crammed with paperbacks. He hadn’t even bothered to unpack yet and he doubted he’d need to unpack much of anything when he did get around to it.

_“This is quite the turn of events. First day and I made friends with the lady who works at 7-Eleven and gets wasted on Friday nights. It’s like something from a folk rock song.”_

J. D. half smirked and buried his head in the pillow; it smelled like sweat and shampoo.

Mel didn’t see it; maybe she was too drunk or too busy trying to get a handle on what was happening. She was obviously inebriated; in his experience, drunk people did not typically have enough sense to worry over things. Especially not random kids they had just met that day at the local 7-Eleven.

Adults especially, sober or drunk or otherwise, seem to care. The only person who had ever cared about him was his mother, but then, if she cared that much, would she have killed herself and left him alone?

J. D. stared at the ceiling and breathed in and out slowly.

She was so angry too. If his dad had come to get him, if he had come with police to fetch him, would she have stood there and not gotten herself involved? Mel looked ready to smack something the second he mentioned Bud not giving much of a damn where he was, but was that something people would normally get mad over? Sure, he was seventeen, but he wasn’t a child.

_“She’s not technically an adult either; she’s only a few years older than me.”_

J. D. was struck with a thought; how old was his mother when she stepped inside that soon to be demolished building? He was so young then; she looked young too, she couldn’t have been much older than Mel. A mother at that age, broken and barely holding on. But in that case, couldn’t she have held onto him at the very least, just a little longer? Just until he was ready to let go?

Of course, he knew he would have never done such a thing; he sneered at how disposable people were to his peers. How easy it was to turn their backs on the people they supposedly cared for.

 _“A shit storm of epic proportions.”_ J. D. surmised as he covered himself with the quilt. Mel must have been raised by a very different breed of people than the ones he was saddled with.  It was clear from her reactions; for some reason, his well being was a priority over her own comfort and convenience.

J.D. wondered what her reactions would be like if he left now while she was passed out. He’d probably get an earful on Monday or whenever he decided to visit his favorite hang out spot.

He fell asleep smiling and safe for the first night in years.


	3. Here We Go Again

J. D. had a plan in mind; he was an early riser naturally and if Mel looked as drunk as she seemed, he’d be able to walk out the front door and leave without being seen.

Actually, that was the first plan. The better one was to wake up early while she was still sleeping and make something special to cure her hangover.

It wasn’t anything personal. Mel was great and all, but J. D. knew for all that kindness, it was blinded with that ‘adult’s know best’ superiority. She’d go back on what she said, call the police or child protective services; worst case scenario he’d get thrown in some group home or passed off into a foster home until he was eighteen and they didn’t give a shit anymore.

Maybe she would have good reason, but that didn’t make it right for him. J. D. had already adapted. He knew what buttons to push and what lines not to cross with Bud and despite what Mel might have thought, physical skirmishes weren’t frequent, and even if they were, J. D. was strong enough now to hold his own against a man who sober was a slow hitter and easy to get winded. He could go for a walk, clear his own head, and go back and the next morning things resumed as they were; J. D. doubted Bud even remembered half the things he said or did while drunk.

It was just bad luck that he managed to run into a familiar face in the late hours, a blip in the routine that J. D. had no choice but to deal with. No more disruptions, no more adapting. And no one had seen Mel take him home; she lived alone and he was certain she had passed out right after leaving him to sleep without calling anyone to tell them of her unexpected house guest. It really was a shame to have to erase someone who had standards and a moral compass, but those were the breaks.

When J. D. woke up it was not from the bright sunlight streaming into the half pulled opened curtains, or the slight chill he felt from apparently knocking the quilt off his body in the middle of the night, or even the panic that seized him when he realized with how bright it was, the morning was most likely closer to noon than five in the morning, though for a second, he had no idea where he was or why that mattered. When he was roused to leave his sleep, it was due to the smell of sausages cooking.

_“...mom?”_

J. D. was still in that space of awake and asleep; he vaguely knew that his eyes were closed and the more he tried to think and bring his cognitive senses to the forefront, he could nudge himself to consciousness.

When he first opened his eyes, he couldn’t help feel disappointed. He shook his head and laughed softly before taking a look around. The clock on the night stand said ten.

“Good morning.” Mel smiled over her shoulder at J. D.; he had decided it wasn’t too late to put his plan in action, but to his anxiety, she looked perfectly fine, no hangover to speak of. He pulled up a seat at the table and ran a hand over his hair, trying to think of what he could do.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t call anyone.”

J. D. snapped his gaze to her; her back was to him and she was scraping the burnt spots off the toast into the sink.

“Thank you for not leaving when I fell asleep.” Mel told him. “I did some thinking this morning, and I wanted to talk to you.” she grinned lopsidedly. “I thought you might be bribed with more food in exchange for hearing me out?”

“If you insist.” J. D. kept a calm smile on his face as she set a plate down in front of him loaded with toast, eggs, sausage, and a bagel. He watched in growing disbelief as she set down a jar of jelly, a butter dish, and a container of milk and orange juice in front of him. “Wow, this is better than Denny’s.”

“You know it.” Mel gave him a half cocky grin as she pulled up a chair by him; her face resumed a more sober look. “Did you sleep okay?”

J. D. nodded, his mouth full with jelly smeared toast.

“Jason...you know, I got lucky. When I was just about as young as you when I ran off. During my senior year of school, they kicked me out to give me incentive to get better grades.” Mel smiled dully. “And, being the prideful little brat I was, I didn’t just go out for a few hours. I packed some food, some clothes, a knife, a bottle of shampoo, and stole some money and hitchhiked to Sherwood, three towns over. For a month I was avoiding cops and just laying low in parks and under bridges like some troll. To my credit, even if I wanted to suck up my pride and go home, I knew my folks didn’t want me back. As far as I know, they couldn’t care less what had happened to me and I never got the urge to contact them.”

J. D. watched as Mel took a sip of her coffee. “So, how’d you end up here? Don’t tell me you meant to come to Sherwood?”

“No, just happened. I was out of money and food and nowhere to go. I had been sleeping on a prostitute's couch for a week in the last town. Heard she died of AIDs a year later.” Mel said. “Anyway, I ended up at Sheila’s and she won me over really quick. Next thing you know, we had a fake ID made so I could work there and when I turned eighteen, her and her husband’s gift to me was this house.”

“They just gave you this house? You’re kidding?”

“No, it’s all paid off. Funny story.” Mel scratched her cheek. “You see, Sheila thinks her mom is still here. I only met her a few times, nice lady; she founded Sheila’s.”

J. D. nodded. “Ah, so she named it after her daughter.”

“Oh no, Sheila was her name. Betty is her daughter, but now that she owns the bar, everyone just calls her Sheila.” Mel shrugged. “Well, she got this idea that her mom’s ghost is still around here, but I couldn’t tell you if it was true. Personally, I haven’t seen any freaky going ons and things moving around.”

“Why not just sell this place?”

“Oh, Sheila couldn’t bring herself to get rid of it.” Mel smiled softly. “And she said I should have a place of my own; I pay her rent and the utilities, but other than that, it’s in my name now if something happens to her or Gary. Husband.” Mel added at his confusion. “He runs the 7-Eleven; I switch between working at both places.”

“And on Fridays you party.”

“You betcha.” Mel winked and raised her cup. “Of course, Sheila and Gary don’t like me drinking too much. See, their kids are alkies, both of them are off who knows where. I guess part of the reason they took me in was because they saw a second chance in me.”

“And you didn’t have anywhere else to go? No family or friends?”

“Not any that were much better than my folks. Besides, the idea at the time was to just run. Go as far as I could.” Mel smiled self deprecatingly. “Jason, I can tell right now you’re twice as smart as me. The only reason I survived was dumb luck and good timing. I trust that you’d probably be a lot more capable on your own, which is one of two reasons I’m not going to get too involved with what’s going on with your dad.”

J. D. rolled his eyes as he dipped his sausages in the egg yolk. “Oh yeah? And just what’s the second reason?”

Mel smiled wanly. “You keep this.”

She took one of his hands and pressed something small and cold in his palm; J. D. frowned as he looked at the key.

“You...well, you remind me a bit of myself. Jason, I don’t want you to do what I did. I was lucky not to get killed or raped when I ran off and I was blessed to have met my new family. But that was all a matter of chance. Do you realize how easy it would have been for something to happen to you last night? I know the folks around here are kinda out of it, things go over their heads. And your dad sounds like he couldn’t give a rat’s ass if you went missing.”

“So...what is this for?”

“On the days when you don’t have anywhere to go, or even if you just want a break from your dad or if things get too...if they get to a place where you are scared and need to leave, I want you to come here.”

J. D. stared blankly at her face.

“I mean it. It’s not like there’s anything worth stealing here and even then, I can’t just ignore what’s happening.” Mel told him with a shaky breath. “Now, fair warning, I have to tell Sheila and Gary.”

J. D. stood up so fast the chair knocked over and crashed to the floor. “Then no deal.”

“Hold on a second! Look, they need to know who you are in case they come by and see some kid hanging around.” Mel told him as she rose up herself and picked up the key he had tossed to the floor. “And they won’t say anything. They’ll understand. They took me in and my situation wasn’t nearly as bad at home. My parents never hit me or nothing, they just...they just didn’t like me. They wanted me gone.”

Mel looked up at him sadly and took his hands in hers; she unfurled one of his fists and made it close back over the key.

“Jason, you just gotta trust me. I was lucky enough to find people who gave half a shit. Do you think my parents ever filed a missing kid report? The school didn’t care an underage dropout was off their roster. No one blinked an eye. I’ve been there Jason. And I was stupid...but you’re a smart kid. You can hold your own. I can’t let you walk out of here unless I know you’ll agree to this. All I’m asking is you come here so if things get too bad, you’ll be safe. Can you believe that much?”

J. D. looked down at the key in his palm.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Why?” Mel asked. “Why did Sheila and Gary give me a chance? Why’d they fight for me?” she laughed and shook her head. “I used to ask myself until even beer couldn’t get my mind off it. Why does anyone help anyone?”

“You’re an adult. Shouldn't you have an idea?”

“Jason, I think you’d realize by now adults can be pretty fucking stupid too.”

“You’re not stupid.”

Mel shrugged and let go of his hands as she took a step back. “I never finished school. I didn’t ever fight for my potential. I just ran away, and by some miracles, I’m okay now. It could have gone so badly.”

 _“I could have killed you this morning if the bed wasn’t so comfortable.”_ J. D. took in her somber face. This was his chance. She was vulnerable. She knew he was stronger.

He knew no one else knew she wasn’t alone.

J. D.’s fingers twitched; Mel looked so sad. She’d be sleeping peacefully in a minute. His hands reached out to her neck and she looked up in surprise.

“Jason?”

Mel was nearly put off balance as J. D. draped his arms around her shoulders, key still held in one fist.

“Jason…?”

“...you’re crazy, you know that? Letting strangers in your house, giving them keys to it. You’re too trusting, that’s your damage.”

Mel put her arms around his back; she began moving her hand up and down his spine. It was the same way Sheila had held her after hearing her whole pathetic little sob story. Her own mother had never held her in such a way, as if she was trying to comfort her.

Like she was her mother.

“If you wanted to steal something or hurt me you’d have done it by now instead of wolfing down eggs and sausage.” Mel said gently. “Come on kid, it’s okay. I won’t screw you over and if I do, you can call the cops and say I kidnapped you.”

J. D. let out a thick chuckle and pulled back after running a hand over his face. “I’ll keep it in mind ma’am.”

“Oh come on, I’m not that old.” Mel laughed. “Mel is fine. Some friends call me Laney.”

“I like Mel. It’s different.”

“It’s mine.” Mel shrugged and checked her watch. “Yikes, I have to leave for work. Those slushies won’t sell themselves.”

J. D. stood awkwardly as she picked up her purse from the table and cleared the dishes.

“Now be honest, is your dad expecting you back by now?”

“Maybe. He usually sleeps it off until noon. But even then, he won’t care where I am unless it’s late today.”

Mel nodded stiffly; he smiled. She was trying to not bad mouth Bud, but it couldn’t have been more obvious how pissed she still was.

“Alright...I don’t have much, but there’s some odds and ends to eat if you get hungry. And lock the door, okay? I’ll let Sheila and Gary know I have a houseguest, but they shouldn’t be coming over today for anything.” Mel took a moment before she walked out the door. “The TV gets twenty channels, most static. If there’s an emergency, call the 7-Eleven. I won’t be off until six, but I can come back if something bad is going down.”

“Alright.” J. D. nodded and inwardly grimaced; his vocabulary was leaving him to grasp at straws, but really, he had no clue what else he could say.

“Okay.” Mel smiled crookedly. “See you Jason. Think about what I said.”

J. D. was left in the middle of the living room; still in a sort of daze.

A woman he had met just the other day had given him an escape; she had poured her heart out to a stranger. And then it hit him like a ton of bricks. Suddenly, he could see and it was a light in the fog of confusion.

_“So, that’s how it’s gonna be huh...?”_

He went to the pantry. There was barely anything to make a decent meal out of, but he didn’t survive seventeen years without knowing where to get food or being able to cook.

J. D. pulled on his duster and took out his wallet to make sure he had cash; with a little smirk he went outside and locked the door behind him before strolling down to the mini mart he had glimpsed down the street from the bus stop with a whistle. After that, he’d go retrieve his hidden bike, buried in thistles and brush out in the cemetery; he really had meant to just go for a walk outside his neighborhood. But it seems once again, his plan had changed.

 _“‘Nothing can be done except little by little,’”_ J. D. reminded himself as he slowed down his speedy gait. It wasn’t a race after all, and if he took his time and thought before acting, it would all work out. Now wasn’t the time to go on blind instincts. All it would take was a careful hand and a clear mind.

He smiled as his head began to thaw.


	4. Baby, i Don't Know Where You've Been

_“Always got the cops coming after me, custom built bike doing 103~”_

“That’d be eleven dollars and forty five cents. Just regular gas, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, you’re all set.” Mel smiled as she handed over the pack of Twinkies; it was interesting what people bought with their gas. She felt like it said a little something about them.

The guy looked like he just got done at the office, been dragged through the coals, and needed a quick fix of sugar. A familiar sight as any; Twinkies were the classics to get. She entertained herself by guessing he was the kind of guy who liked the classics. Maybe he was a Sinatra fan.

The man offered a sort of smile. “Thanks.”

“Thank you, and come again.” Mel broke out of her reverie and waved as he walked out the door, the sounds of Nikki Sixx shredding on guitar followed him out as she turned up her radio and played the drums with imaginary sticks.

“Maybe that’s your problem.”

“Gary, not when my tunes are on.” Mel swung her hips to and fro and bobbed her head. “My, heart, my heart, kick start my heart! Come on, take it away Gary!”

“......”

“Maybe you’re more a Zeppelin guy? Oh right, you think my music is-what’d ya call it? A travesty?” Mel teased him and continued to move side to side as the song went to the guitar solo. “How about a mix from your time, old man? I can jam to some 'Jailhouse Rock'.” she began wiggling her hips in an exaggerated fashion. “We can blast the past and I can shake my pelvis like Elvis!”

Gary crossed his arms and glared, evidently not appreciating her humor.

“Or not.” Mel let her arms fall to her side; she sighed before turning the volume down again.

“You done?”

“So Gary,” Mel asked in her best monotone as she leaned over the counter. “What would my problem be?” she lowered her voice in a stage whisper. “Aside from getting my song interrupted….”

The older man shuffled around the window with a Big Gulp sized cup. “You keep letting strangers just waltz in places.”

“Wait, that guy was a paying customer.” Mel smirked. “Are you saying I should have shaken my fist and told him not to let the door hit his ass on the way out?”

“It’s a metaphor, it doesn’t have to make sense.”

Mel pursed her lips and reached for a candy bar. “Get real Gary, you’ve been giving me the third degree ever since I mentioned this kid.”

“Hey, put that down. You just had three.”

“I didn’t like the others.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that why the only thing left is wrappers?”

Mel shrugged and took a bite of her candy. “Well there’s no need to waste them.” she chewed thoughtfully. “Mm. Fourth time’s the charm.”

Gary crossed his arms and slurped his soda. “Watch it. You’re on thin ice already Laney.”

“Thin ice? Gary, come on! Sheila said if I ever wanted to invite someone over it was no one else’s business but mine.”

“Yeah, a visitor, a temporary guest. Not a boarder. And how do you know that kid isn’t looting the place or-or inviting his buddies or something?”

“One, that kid got here yesterday and he doesn’t know a soul. Trust me, if you met him, you’d know.” Mel looked contemplative. “I mean, he’s not a bad kid, but there’s...I don’t know. Something’s off. He’s a bit strange, the way he talks.”

“Surprise, surprise.” Gary scoffed. “All you kids sound like you’re speaking another language.”

“Not like that. I mean, I can see this guy quoting Fred Nietzcha or whatever.”

“Friedrich Nietzsche.”

“What kind of name is that?”

“German you dunce.” Gary stared at her. “Christ kid, did you learn anything in school?”

“Hey, I left junior year, remember poindexter?”

Gary put down his cup and went over to take a pack of peanuts from the rack outside the window. “Listen smart ass, I dropped out too, but that’s no excuse to not pick up a book once in blue moon. Maybe if you didn’t listen to so much garbage you’d have room in that empty skull for some culture.”

“Music is culture thank you very much.” Mel stole a sip of Gary’s drink to wash down the candy. “Ew, diet?”

Gary gave her a look of disbelief, a handful of peanuts halfway to his mouth. “Get your own then.” he picked up the cup and made a face at the straw; the tip was shiny and pink. “Dammit you got your lip crap on it too”

Mel shrugged her shoulders and took out a compact mirror to check her lip gloss. “Didn’t you say you wanted me to be more ladylike or something?” she flashed him a winning smile; there was melted chocolate on one of her teeth. “I think I fit the bill.”

“I don’t know if globbing on lip crap and stealing sips of other people’s soda fits the bill.”

“Oh please, Sheila said it looked good and she wears way more makeup than I could stand. Plus, it tastes better than diet Coke.” Mel frowned and bared her teeth as she wiped off the candy bits.

“Shelly looks good in anything.” Gary said with a rare absent smile; it dropped as he gave her a once over. “And maybe you should be switching to diet.”

Mel gawked at him. “Um, rude much?”

“Is this coming from the kid who just stole my drink?” Gary rolled his eyes to the ceiling at her scandalized pout. “I’m not saying you’re fat dammit, but you can stand to eat a bit better. If you’re going to cram in the junk while you work, might as well go for a lesser evil.”

Mel smiled in exasperation. “Yeah, yeah, go complain to Fred about it. But like I said, the kid would probably know who you’re griping about.” she went to get a drink of diet root beer. “Anyway Gary, back to topic. Jason’s not some hood. He’s all alone and there’s no place for him to go.” Mel sent him a half smile. “Sound familiar?”

“That was different.”

“How?”

“You’re a girl. No offense, but it’s typically men who’ve mugged me in the past. Well, no, that’s not right.” Gary backtracked. “There was that one lady who ran off with my bonus and my best pair of cuff links while I was passed out…” he shook his head quickly to clear his thoughts. “But it’s still different!”

“Oh my god, sexist much?” Mel put her hands on her hips. “Gary, women are just as capable of pulling a gun out on someone. Hell, remember when Sheila had to toss out that one bum who couldn’t pay his tab?”

“Okay, okay, I get it Rosie the Riveter.” Gary told her with a defeated sigh. “But it’s still different for you. Sheila’s a fighter.”

Mel smiled; it was hard to miss the note of pride in Gary’s voice.

“Sheila’s bomb.”

“Heh, yeah…” Gary started to smile but frowned when he saw Mel’s knowing grin. “But you’re about as intimidating as a spaniel.”

“Oh brother.” Mel shook her head and sucked at her straw, biting the plastic habitually. “You’ll take in strange women and stray dogs foaming at the mouth, but a beaten up seventeen year old boy is off limits?”

“Boy? Laney, that kid’s practically a man. When I was his age I already worked full time.” Gary said dismissively as he plucked one of the ice cubes out of the bottom of his cup.

“You dropped out to help your mom. If you ask me, you didn’t have much choice but to grow up.”

“A man does what needs to be done.” Gary said resolutely.

“Not all men.” Mel said soberly. “If that was true, the kid’s dad would have the cops crawling all over town to find his him. Gary, how could I let him go back? Part of me doesn’t want him to leave my sight. What if that guy gets too drunk and it isn’t just a punch next time, what if-?”

“Whoa, let’s put the brakes on that thought.” Gary put a hand on her shoulder; she was practically hyperventilating. “You said this kid was able to fight right? And when things got too much of a hassle he ran, right?”

“Well, yeah.”

Gary nodded. “That’s smart. You need to know when enough is enough. This guy sounds a lot tougher than you might think.”

“Maybe, but Gary, I can’t even imagine how he must be feeling right now. I mean, not even a pen pal to talk to this about? His mom’s dead, no relatives to turn to and the only person to count on is a drunk asshole? Why hasn’t anyone done anything about this?!”

“I couldn’t say.” Gary told her calmly. “I know you’re doing more than enough for someone he just met.”

Mel chanced a weak smile and toyed with her straw. “It’s hard not to empathize. I know I’m being ridiculous. I don’t know a thing about him aside from what he’s told me.” she lowered her voice as a group of middle schoolers came in and attacked the candy aisle. “I guess it is crazy. Am I just that gullible?”

“I’m not saying that. I’m saying this is a...difficult situation and I just hope you’re not letting your personal feelings get in the way.” Gary paused to print out a receipt for the boys. “Easy kid, you’ll get a heart attack before you’re ten.”

“I’m twelve?”

“You sure? Well, that’s what happens when you only eat crap, stunts your growth.” Gary turned back to Mindy as the boy sent him a brief disgruntled glare before running outside. “So...what was I talkin’ about again? Right, feelings and crap. So what I mean is, if nothing else, you’ve got good street smarts.”

“Thanks.”

“That being said, the worst thing you can do is ignore your instincts.” Gary stood to his full height and looked her in the eye. “Be honest with me Laney; is there anything about this kid that makes you...I don’t, what do you kids say nowadays? Making you trip.”

“Close I guess...but no. Like, after what he’s been going through, it’s expected he might be a bit far out there compared to some kids his age.” Mel shrugged. “Sheila used to say I was eighteen going on thirty.”

“Now you’re twenty three going on pain in my ass.”

Mel grinned. “So I wasn’t always?”

“No, you were. It’s just more pronounced now. But, like you and Shelly say, it’s your house. You pay rent-”

“With the money I get from you two.”

“You work fucking hard for it too. You know damn well I would toss your ass out if I didn’t get the results deserved.” Gary said firmly; Mel flushed with a little smile and continued to drink to avoid saying anything. “I can’t tell you what to do as far as this is concerned. But if the cops do get a call from his pop about some lady kidnapping his boy, you keep me and my wife’s name out of it. This is your decision and you are a lady now. I hope you just realize what the consequences can be if things don’t go as planned.”

Mel rolled her eyes. “Gary, the cops here are total dip shits. But I guess that’s what happens when the biggest problems in a town is cow tipping.”

But she knew that even if the police decided to do their job, Gary and Sheila would fight for her tooth and nail. Still, Mel really wasn’t that worried now the immediate panic was over. Most people minded their own business anyway; no one wanted to get involved, cause waves, or otherwise do anything to intervene on matters that didn’t concern them. It was funny how similar this town was to her old one; it was like she hadn’t really gone anywhere.

“Is he there now?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Mel told Gary as she made a face at the cigarettes she had to organize. “God these are rank. How can anyone stand to smoke them?”

“Maybe it’s the same reason someone can down a shot of whiskey even if it burns going down.”

“That’s different. Drinking in moderation is just a good time. Smoking doesn’t give you anything but a shot lung and bad skin eventually.”

“You’re preaching to the choir. You know, if I had the lung power to sing.” Gary cackled and let out a brief cough; he had actually quit some ten years ago, but the after effects weren’t kind to him. Mel wondered if he’d even be alive in front of her if he was still smoking two packs a day.

“Gary, be real with me. If, like, you were me, what would you have done?” Mel asked tentatively.

He was silent for a long few seconds before letting out a slow, rueful smile. “I guess about the same thing, man or woman or whatever. Now, I’d be a hell of a lot more careful about it,” he added with a meaningful look; Mel rolled her eyes. “But, yeah. I would have done about the same. I hope that kid realizes how much you’re sticking your neck out for him. Christ, possible illegal implications if the wrong asshole finds out, possibility he’s whacked out, all kinds of shit that could get you in hot water.”

“I just hope I’m doing the right thing.”

Gary crumpled up his empty bag and tossed it in the trash. “You’re doing what you can. It’s about all we can do in this world.”

Mel smiled cockily. “That was legit Gary. Put that on a bumper sticker, spread the word.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Gary frowned dryly and ran a hand roughly through his steel gray wisps of hair; it was that action that probably made him lose it so fast. “Ya know, I knew the second you mentioned it Shelly would go for this idea. She’s already calling to ask if you wanted her to pack him some wings or shit to go.”

“That’s sweet of her, but he’s probably long gone. I have to say, wings do sound good. Don’t know if he can digest shit though.” Mel clocked out and checked her purse to make sure she had everything.

“Bullshit maybe.” he said ominously. “Watch out for yourself.”

“See you Gary!” Mel grinned as she walked out the door, making the little bell ring cheerfully.

Sometimes she wondered how he got together with Sheila; from what he had told her, his luck with women had been awful before then. Maybe the whole opposites attract thing had a grain of truth to it; Mel was certainly luckier in that department though. She may not have found the salt to her pepper, but the dates she had in the past didn’t ever blow up in her face. There was just no one she had ever connected to, not like Gary did with Sheila. There wasn’t anyone she knew who could read her thoughts before she could say them, like they were in sync. It could be worse though; she could have fallen in with a sneak who stole her cuff links.

Now that she really thought about it, they were the only really happy couple she had ever seen. Kids who came into the 7-Eleven seemed to be with each other just to have someone to hold hands with or someone to hang off on to not look like losers. Married couples tended to look tired and drained as they grabbed their gas and Slim Jims and booked it. Mel’s own parents only seemed united in their disapproval.

Working in a 7-Eleven and a bar was the best way to see all kinds of people; after all, everyone liked to eat and drink, get a Big Gulp with their regular gas load ups, etc. Frequently she saw regulars, but before J. D. stopped in, she had never actually interacted with them in such a way.

 _“I definitely never let anyone crash in my room and give them my keys.”_ Mel thought tiredly; Gary was kind enough to run to the nearest hardware store to give her another copy. _“Hell, I’ve never brought a guy over at all, let alone a stray kid.”_

But even so, it didn’t feel wrong. The only thing that sort of unsettled Mel was how J. D. talked sometimes; not the eloquent prose or the easy wit he seemed to add into every other sentence. It was how he talked about himself. His mother, his father, his troubles.

All the things a normal kid would be griping about or angry about, J.D. spoke of like it was all in a day’s work to fight off his drunken, apathetic father and escape from his home into an unfamiliar area of town in the dead of night. He brushed off her concerns, waved off any worries.

Mel frowned to herself; she thought of how she was walking to her own safe and secure home, no more worrying about parents yelling or glaring or browbeating her at every turn. J. D. was going home to who knows what, despite his careless insistence nothing would happen he couldn’t handle. The closest he came to raw emotion was just before she left and even then he had pulled himself together pretty quickly.

 _“Maybe that’s not too off. I mean, a seventeen year old boy isn’t going to fall in piece in front of_ _some lady he just met.”_ Mel reasoned as she turned the corner to see her house in the distance; suddenly she stopped in the middle of the street. “What the….?”

If her eyes weren’t mistaken, there was a motorbike parked in her small driveway. Mel cautiously began walking again, eyes looking all around and looking for a stranded motorist or really anyone, but the street was clear of neighbors or strangers. Her nerves were still on edge when she was unlocking her door slowly, knife clutched in her fist as she burst into her own home.

Mel blinked rapidly, bag falling off her shoulder and knife nearly slipping from her grasp as she took in the state of her house.

“What the…?”

“Welcome home.”


	5. Passion Starts to Rise

“You’re going to catch flies.”

Mel didn’t seem to hear J. D.; she took another step into what seemed to be her living room, only a version that wasn’t covered in a layer of dust, no grime in the carpet, or old stains on the walls. There was a vase of fake sunflowers in the middle of the coffee table and a smell of oregano wafting through the air.

“Earth to Mel.”

“Jason...wow, did you do all this?”

J. D. gave her a cocky smile. “Just my little way of showing gratitude. Come into the kitchen.”

Mel gasped when she poked her head into the entrance behind J. D.; the counters were wiped clean and smelled like lemons. The sink was dried of any excess water, the dish rack was cleared and the stove top of her oven was spotless, scrubbed of any grime or burn marks. The faded wooden table was wiped down as well and set with plates and forks and cups. In the very middle was a bowl of greens and cherry tomatoes; next to that was a serving pot with pasta covered in rich red sauce. Mel inhaled and found herself drooling.

“I may not have the best diet, but you didn’t think I went through my whole life without knowing how to keep house, did you?” J. D. smirked at her loss of speech. “God knows Bud wasn’t going to help out.”

Mel was snapped from her admiration. “Wait, does your dad know-I mean, shouldn’t you be home by now?”

J. D. shrugged. “I called him, said I spent the day hanging with a classmate and they invited me over for dinner.”

“And he just believed you?”

“What can I say? I’m persuasive. And he’s buzzed, so…” J. D. let her fill in the blanks. “And it’s the least I can do.”

“You really didn’t have to do this. I mean, this is legit something out of a catalogue.” Mel practically squealed at the roses in a glass vase on the table by the pasta. “Geez kid, what can’t you do?”

“Stay in one spot for more than six weeks.”

Mel frowned as he went to the pantry to grab a bottle of wine. “What?”

“Forget it. Sit down, take a load off.” J. D. handed her a plate with a grin. “Get it while it’s hot.”

Mel smiled and let the subject drop as she began piling food on her plate. “This really does look good. Bet you’re popular with the ladies, am I right?” she laughed. “God knows I’d like to meet a man who can manage to use a microwave. Like, you press two buttons and slide the frozen block of shit inside. Hell, even I know how to do that.”

Mel slurped her noodles, frowning slightly and using the back of her hand to swipe off the smudge of sauce. “Hey, what is this?”

“Ragu, but with a twist.”

“Twist?”

“Just 'spiced' things up.”

Mel cackled. “Lame!”

“I’m a comedian.” J. D. smiled as he began cutting up his own noodles with a fork and knife. “How was your day in the nuthouse?”

“What, work? It was fine, lots of people coming in for ice cream and crap. It’s so hot out,” Mel sighed as she poured herself a glass of wine she just realized was on the table next to the flowers. “Hey, what’s merelot?”

“It’s pronounced mer-low.” J. D. sounded out the word as he sipped at his own glass of water. “It’s wine.”

“I know that much.” Mel sniffed the drink curiously. “Huh, weird. I wasn’t ever much of a wine drinker.” she sipped and smacked her lips. A smudge of gloss painted the rim of the glass. “It’s...bitter? But in a good way?”

“You just drank some. Don’t you trust your own senses?”

“Sure, except Friday nights”

“Good thing, or I might not be here enjoying dinner with good company.” J. D. raised his glass. “Cheers to responsible drinking.”

“Wait, how’d ya get this?” Mel frowned suddenly as she studied the bottle; sometimes she forgot wine was straight up alcohol.

“Guy at the liquor counter doesn’t check IDs.”

“You’re kidding? Jesus, what a dumb ass.” Mel shook her head. “He’s lucky you were just getting it for someone else. Be careful Jason. I’ll be honest, an occasional beer or two at your age wouldn’t do much, but you should at least wait a couple more years before getting into the stronger stuff. Don’t do anything to jeopardize your education now. Hell, wait til you’re out of college if you can.”

“Yes ma’am.” J. D. said with an odd half smile. “I can appreciate your candidness, but maybe you should watch out more for yourself.”

“Eh, if I’m a drunk, what’s the damage? A job at 7-Eleven? Not that I’d ever take what Sheila and Gary did for granted, but let’s face it, I don’t have nearly as much at stake as someone like you.”

“Me?”

“You’re young, cute, smart as hell, and tough.” Mel swallowed a mouthful of pasta and burped. “And temporary or not, each record at your schools adds up if you do want to apply to college. If anything, those people will think you’re the bomb.”

J. D.’s eyes glinted as he leaned back on his chair. “The bomb huh?”

“Totally. If they see that with all the moving around you still keep up your grades, they’ll think, ‘Hey, look at this kid! Look at this record, these report cards; he’s smart and adaptable and has perseverance! We won’t regret giving a scholarship grant to him!’ Get what I’m saying?”

J. D. nodded absently; the thought had never actually occurred to him. High school seemed to repeat on an endless loop. But college? What kind of zoo would that be like?

“But I guess that’s if you want to continue your education.” Mel shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll be fine whatever you do.”

“You think so?”

“Sure.” Mel said confidently. “If anything else, you can bag a nice girl someday and be one of the house husbands you see nowadays. I can just see you with a couple tykes, teaching them how to cook, how to pronounce shit.”

“I don’t know how good a parent would be if they teach their offspring to say curse words.”

Mel smiled wryly. “Ha ha. Maybe you should be a comedian.” she paused as half a strand of noodle hung from her mouth. “Hey, what about your dad’s business? He is that Bud Dean guy, right? I heard his company was coming to town, but it wasn’t until later I realized he was your old man. I mean, whatever your feelings toward him, I bet a smart guy like you could do a lot for a big company. People will always need to build stuff.”

“Or demolish it.”

“Yeah, that too.” Mel conceded. “But all those vacant lots can have use. Sheila’s used to be a vacant lot; before that, it was a church until the parish moved to another area in town.” she cackled and almost spit up her food. “Dig that, a bar over holy grounds. And someone like you can make it happen too.”

J. D. was silent as he finished his water; Mel felt a bit embarrassed. She wasn’t used to having company, especially not teenagers. She decided to pipe down and let him have a moment of peace.

“What about you Mel?”

Mel coughed on her wine. “Whoa, sharp! Sorry what?”

“You, you, you.” J. D. smiled as she wiped her face with a napkin. “What are your grand plans?”

“Oh, I like where I am. I’m not all that book smart. Besides, they can be a drag, but I do like working for Gary and Sheila.” Mel smiled sheepishly. “I mean, I know they’re not my blood family, but it sort of feels like it, so it’s kind of fun to work for them. Plus, what’ll you do if I don’t work at 7-Eleven?”

“I guess I’ll have to go to Shell.”

“Those stuck up assholes.” Mel winked. “But seriously, where’ll you get your free Slurpees from if I’m gone?”

“I can pinch them.” J. D. answered without a beat. “Or I’ll switch to wine in it’s absence.”

“Oh, don’t even joke, you brat.” Mel flipped him off. “I mean it, if you get caught for underage drinking-”

“You’ll put me in a time out?”

“I’ll tell all the mini marts in town there’s a rebel without a cause breaking into every place that serves slushies and they’ll plaster your poster on every window.”

J. D. smiled and settled back, hands supporting his head. “Wow, I’ve never heard that reference used so elaborately before.”

“I have my moments.” Mel said as she sucked up the rest of her plate; she sighed happily and patted her stomach. “Thanks a lot, that’s just what I needed after today. Hey, tell you what,”

J. D. eyed her curiously as she stood up and cleared their plates; Mel’s cheeks were flushed, but from the wine or from being pleased was anyone’s guess.

“I’ll treat you to a Slurpee before you go. A little dessert for the ride back. That is your bike right?”

“Yes indeed.” J. D. moved gracefully from his chair to the kitchen, eyes still trained on her back. “I take it I’m in charge of transportation?”

“Well, you’ll need to take your bike back since you’re going home.” Mel said, still turned around and unable to see his expression. “Oh, but will we both fit?”

“If you hang on and lean with me.” J. D. told her with a dismissive tone. “Trust me, it’s as easy as riding a regular bike.”

“Is it? Never got around to figuring that one out either.” Mel said absently; this time she could see his face and the incredulous smirk on his lips.

“Did you move here from Mars?”

“No, Hell.” Mel said innocently before bursting into laughter. “You need to do anything else before we go?”

There was a long, lingering moment of silence as he stared at her. Mel waited and tried to look neutral, but his unreadable look was a bit off putting. After another moment, she felt worried. Was he anxious about going home? Was there something else he hadn’t told her about the situation?

“Nah. But you know, I think I’ll get cherry flavor this time.” J. D. sidestepped her and walked briskly to the front door as he took his keys from his duster pocket. “What’s your poison?”

“Mild peanut and seasonal allergies.”

J. D. was about to chuckle, but he could tell the term had gone over her head. He waited.

“Oh!” Mel laughed carelessly at the mix up. “I love lemonade. Can’t stand stuff that’s too sweet, but tart and sour I can eat all day.”

J. D. locked the door behind them, giving her a subdued smile as he mounted the bike and motioned for her to get on the back. “Here, put this on.”

Mel handed back the helmet. “Jason, you’re the minor here and you’re the driver. It’s more likely if we get in an accident, you’re the one who’ll get the head injury.”

“Pearls before swine ma’am.”

Mel shook her head with a half smile as he thrust the helmet forward; she fastened it around her chin and settled in behind him, praying she wouldn’t get bucked off.

“You have to hold on to-” J. D. paused as her arms looped around his waist. “Hold on tight, I mean. It’ll be easier to lean with me.”

“Okay.”

J. D. didn’t miss the note of hesitancy in her voice; with a slow smirk he turned the keys and flipped his fringe to the side of his face while he revved the engine. “Don’t tell me you’re scared?”

“No. I trust you, but you pay attention to the road, some of these people couldn’t drive a bumper car.”

“Yes ma’am.”

The whole ride consisted of uncomfortably tight squeezing and hands clinging to his stomach like a cat hanging onto a tree limb as Mel muttered pleas for survival under her breath, face practically buried between his shoulder blades. J. D. would have laughed, but seeing her knees shaking as she descended onto the sidewalk in front of 7-Eleven while she gave him a bracing smile made him feel it would just be too cruel.

“Sorry Jason, hope I didn’t scratch you.”

She did actually; that’s how hard her nails were digging in.

“Not a one.” J. D. held open the door and did a short bow. “Shall we?”

Mel’s smile grew as she approached the counter. “Hey Gary! What the hell, thought your shift was over?”

“Kid had a family emergency.” Gary shrugged his broad shoulder and stopped over to continue scraping gum off under the ledge of the purchase counter. J. D. stood beside Mel but didn’t say anything.

“Gary, this is Jason, the kid I told you about?” Mel introduced. “You won’t believe this kid, I get home and he made me food to thank me, even cleaned up!” she beamed at Jason and playfully shook his shoulder. “Have you heard of anything so sweet? Told you he wasn’t a punk.”

“Yeah, yeah, are you here to brag about the guy or pay for something?”

“Actually, I was going to treat Jason to a slushie.” Mel retorted.

Gary stood up slowly and bent over to crack his back; his narrow eyes landed on J. D. “ Jason, right?”

“Yes sir, Jason Dean, but most people just call me J. D.”

“Okay, that’ll be easier to remember.”

Mel rolled her eyes. “Jason, this is Gary, he’s happy to meet you.”

“Yeah, I’m clicking my heels. Listen kid, Laney wouldn’t shut up about how great you were and I trust her judgement, so know I don’t care if you two have an arrangement, but know that house was my wife’s and if anything gets damaged, you’ll have me to answer to.”

“Of course, that’s fair.” J. D. kept a smile on his features and Gary seemed satisfied for the time being.

“Okay, just wanted to make things transparent.”

“There’s that million dollar vocab.” Mel stuck her tongue out at Gary. “We’re gonna get our shit and be out of your hair, don’t worry.”

Gary sent them both a look before turning back to his chore.

“He’s delightful.”

Mel noticed J. D. kept his voice low. “Don’t give it another thought. Gary is all bark and no bite. I mean, unless you really fuck up, but other than that, he’s harmless.”

“My worries are alleviated.” J. D. said as he picked out the cherry flavor; he felt a warmth in his chest as he watched the melted ice slide into the cup, his fingers already feeling the freeze from the outside of the cup. He capped it with a lid and took out another empty cup. “May I?”

“Yeah, sure.” Mel was wandering off down the aisle where the bathroom was located on the side of the car appliances. “You hear that?”

“Hm?”

“I said, did you hear that just now?”

J. D. spread out his arms with a comical grin. “Hark. The angel sings.”

Mel sent him a look before turning her ear back to the bathroom. “Hold on Jason, I’ll be right back.”

“Okay, but this thing will melt fast.” J. D. shrugged his shoulders and leaned against the machine to drink his own slushie. “Of course, then it’d just be juice.”

Mel ignored him; she made her way down the aisle, bypassing two girls who were chatting loudly, her ears straining. Gary wasn’t too far away, but his focus was on the task of peeling off dried gum; but Mel was more than certain now as she approached the closed door to the woman’s bathroom. She pressed her ear against the door and knocked.

“Hello? Is everything alright in there?”

Mel stepped back slightly at the sound of the toilet flushing; the sink was running now and she frowned worriedly, rapping her knuckles over the door once again.

“Hello? Are you okay?”

The faucet was turned off and she heard light steps; Mel moved away just as the door was swung open. A girl with slightly wet eyes wiped the side of her mouth with a paper towel before tossing it aside.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? I heard a lot of gagging.”

She gave Mel a cool once over as she wiped the perspiration from her forehead. “Oh, so you work here? Don’t tell me you’re going to, like, kick me out for using the toilet are you?”

“No-”

“Heather, could you be more pathetic?” the taller girl waiting down the aisle didn’t even glance over while she checked her nails. “I mean, in public?”

“Yeah, that’s so immature.” the other girl flipped back her blonde hair, but her long nails got caught in the strands; the taller girl raised her eyes in exasperation as her friend struggled to get her fingers unstuck.

“Oh my god Heather.”

“Sorry Heather.” the girl was already pretty short, but she seemed to shrink under the withering stare. The Heather with the red scrunchie holding up her own silkier blonde hair sighed.

“Anyway….Heather, move your ass. And buy some mints, your bulimia breath will scare off all the guys at the party.”

“Sorry Heather…” Brown haired Heather snapped to attention and quickly moved to the candy aisle; Mel stared and found herself trailing after her.

“Hey kid, um, Heather was it?”

“What do you want?”

Mel inwardly rolled her eyes. “Kid, I wouldn’t sound so high and mighty, not after sounding like you just puked up a day’s worth of meals and then some.”

Heather’s cheek flushed red. “I really don’t see how that’s your business stock girl!”

“Right. Well, as an official employee of the 7-Eleven chain, allow me to make a suggestion.” Mel scanned the aisle and picked up a box of Junior Mints; she held them up to the wary Heather with her fingers. “These will make your breath smell like chocolate and mint.”

“I...well, that’s more like it.” Heather took the box. “Much better customer service.”

“Yeah, sure thing kid. I have to say, they’re small, but filling.” Mel offered a lopsided grin. “And hey, after eating these, whatever guy you’re kissing won’t be able to stop if you get my drift.”

Mel nearly jumped at the titter that came out of the girl’s mouth; apparently she was just as shocked as she slapped a perfectly manicured hand over her lips with wide eyes. Her eyes looked almost fearful as they traveled to whom Mel assumed was the leader of the pack.

Tallest Heather pushed her ponytail off her shoulder. “Heather, hurry it up.”

“Sorry, coming!” Heather walked past Mel with barely a glance before rushing to the counter to have Gary ring her up.

“Heather is so slow.” the smaller Heather said, looking up at her friend with expectant eyes, searching for a shred of approval. Mel felt her eyebrows raise.

“Slower than the short bus.” Heather picked her long, cherry red nails. “You know Heather, I have half a mind to make her walk. Maybe she’ll appreciate the time it takes to haul her ass around if she has blisters on her big feet.”

“Damn.” Mel put a hand on her hip and just stared at the lead Heather.

“Um, was I talking to you?”

“Trust me sweetie, hearing that was not intentional.” Mel gazed down at her like she was a specimen from Mars. “God, is that scrunchie dyed with the blood of your victims?”

Heather deemed it necessary to shoot Mel a snotty frown. “Hey, here’s an idea. Shut up and go mind your own business. Go on,” she smiled thinly and waved her hand like she was shooing away a child. “Be a good stock girl and maybe I won’t tie this scrunchie around your mouth to shut those cheaply glossed up lips.” her tone was icy but her eyes flashed like fire. “Keep pulling my dick and see what happens.”

Mel was silent as a mouse; Heather smirked and turned to sheep Heather. “Now, as I was saying-”

Heather began but her sentence was cut off by wheezing; she grit her teeth and looked at Mel, who was currently doubled over at the waist and braying like a donkey without shame.

“Oh my god!” Mel cackled and glanced at the Heather still buying her candy, who looked shell shocked. Gary just looked up at the ceiling as he printed out a receipt slowly but surely. Heather with the less smooth blonde locks looked scandalized.

“I mean, ‘pulling on your dick’?! W-what the hell does that _mean_?” Mel slapped her knee and ducked down again, gasping as she tried to breath.

Heather kept a chilly look on her face. “....are you done?”

“Yeah, hold on-wait!”

They all seemed to do just that as Mel continued to bust a gut, her booming cackling turning to soft giggles as she breathed in and out to calm down.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry sweetie, but-oh wow, I have never heard that!” Mel wiped her eyes, her face was bright pink from her laughing fit and her smile spread cheek to cheek. “Damn, that was great. I mean, who says pretty girls aren’t funny?!”

J. D. had kept to his corner of the store, watching the scene without drawing any attention to himself as he sucked on his straw, swallowing gulp after gulp of sweet cherry slush.

His ears didn’t miss Mel’s tone; he knew she was a bit dense, but the exchange had gone completely over her head. She truly thought Heather was a riot.

His eyes didn’t miss Heather Duke and Heather McNamara, staring unabashedly in a mix of fear and shock and awe at what they had witnessed and they certainly didn’t see the way Heather Chandler seemed at a loss for words, her glare faded and more confused than anything else. Had anyone ever laughed at her before? He stood back and waited for the explosion, confident Mel could handle her own in this instance; she wouldn’t pussyfoot around with someone like Heather if she actually did manage to sense the intimidation the younger girl had tried to convey.

“Oh boy, I thought I was going to stop breathing.” Mel smothered another giggle. “Gary, you hear that?”

“Yeah, and I heard you laughing like a loon. Christ, you’ll scare off my customers at this rate.” Gary handed Heather Duke her bag. “Sorry you had to witness that ladies.”

“Oh don’t be such a stiff.” Mel shook her head and shot him a shamelessly toothy smile. “Come on, you gotta admit that was pretty cute.”

Gary gave her a look. “Are you drunk?”

“Oh yeah, jump to that.” Mel faced Heather Duke and made her tone gentler. The girl looked on edge for some reason. “Hey, be careful with those okay hun? Eat slow or you’ll upset your stomach.”

“I...right, fine…” Heather’s brown eyes flitted over to Heather Chandler questioningly, as if waiting for her command. Heather McNamara seemed even more anxious, like she was going to jump for cover any second.

Heather adjusted her scrunchie. “Heather, Heather, we’ll be late. Move it or lose it, unless you want me to leave you both here.”

As soon as she turned to go, the girls scurried after her, skirts swishing and heels clacking as they formed a pack once more.

“Thanks, come again.” Mel waved with a half smile; she shrugged as Heather Chandler just sent her a haughty look and flipped her long hair once more as she sashayed out the door.

“Boy, that one’s a piece of work.” Gary let out a low whistle before going back to scraping gum; he would never call a woman anything like ‘bitch’ or ‘cunt’, but Mel was a bit surprised all the same. Gary saying ‘piece of work’ was his personal equivalent.

“Aw, they’re young. With any luck, they might grow out of it.” Mel shrugged at Gary as the trio pulled out of the parking lot and sped away; she chuckled and shook her head as she walked back to J. D., who hadn’t moved an inch. “You hear that Jason? ‘Pulling on my dick’? I gotta remember that one.”

“Genius.” J. D. checked his watch. “Hey Mel, I better motor, it’s getting late.”

“Oh sure, and that slushie is on the house.”

“Don’t give shit away for free when I’m right here!”

“Take it from my check!” Mel called back and sighed heavily. “Dear lord that man….anyhow, are you going to be okay? You remember, if there’s anything you can’t handle, you come over, I don’t care what time it is, if I’m at work, whatever.”

“Hey, a deal is a deal.”

Mel lowered her voice and took J. D.’s arm in her grip. “I mean it Jason. You swear to me if things look bad-”

“Mel, take it easy.” J. D. pulled his arm from her hand gently. “I’m a big boy, I can tie my own shoes, pour my own milk in the cereal.”

Mel smiled apologetically. “I know. Just...humor me? And be safe.”

J. D. raised his hand as if taking an oath, thanked her, left Gary with a respectful and understanding nod as he issued another warning/threat, and walked out the door into the somewhat cooler night air. He waited as he started his bike, peering through the large glass window to be sure Mel was busy searching for the right tune on her radio while he downed the rest of his Slurpee in one swallow. As the doors slid slowly closed, he heard the music drift out to his ears.

_"When I get home from work, I wanna wrap my arms around you. I wanna take you and squeeze you, 'til the passion starts to rise...~"_

"See, and you said Alice Cooper is the devil." Mel was gesturing triumphantly to the radio as the voice crooned to a soft melody of a love song. It wasn't one to jam to in a fast and wild sense, but Mel seemed to enjoy it all the same.

"No, I said he's ugly as sin. But yeah, I don't like his music either."

"Sheila likes this song." Came the sly response.

_"If I could take you to heaven, that would make my day complete.~"_

J. D. could hear Alice Cooper's ballad over the sound of Gary's adamant denials before the door shut tight and the voices were all muffled noise. It might have been funny if he was in a better mood. He cast them one last glance before tossing his cup in the trash and driving off.

As the wind picked up and pushed back his hair and stung his eyes, he could feel the throb pulse and wrap around his brain. He embraced it. He wished it made him blind.

He would give anything to destroy the image now imprinted in his brain, the burning, stomach churning image of Heather Chandler hiding a blush as she made her escape from the store and Mel’s bright smile.

J. D. wanted to burn the image to the ground with a few tons of TNT.

Or just skip the pleasant imagery to shoot for the stars and make the fantasy a reality.


	6. Cover Up Love's Alibi

**Author's Note: Anyone seeing the pattern yet? I'm a big fan of 80's rock, so if you get all the references and jokes, kudos! Hope you all enjoy!**

Heather Chandler was majorly miffed.

“I said, I’m not feeling good, you ass.” she muttered at the boy beside her; she didn’t know his name, or really any of the names of the men sitting around her. “You probably gave me some bad shit.”

The metaphorical pig sitting next to her, one arm draped lazily half on her shoulder and half on the booth seat as he shoveled fries into his mouth. Heather wanted to gag; they were covered in chili and cheese and if he thought he was putting that tongue in her mouth later, he had another thing coming. Even now she was getting closer and closer to storming out of the bar.

 _“These guys probably wouldn’t make the cut for community college.”_ Heather thought bitterly as she drummed her red nails on the table, the plate of salad barely touched in front of her. _“God, when he said we were going out, I thought he meant going someplace where they can make a dish with real frickin’ food.”_

He had the money, and heather Duke said she had heard that he had the class. Heather sneered to herself. _“Stupid bitch. Her and Heather are going to gets their’s tomorrow. Christ, I’m fucking starving here you fucking idiots...”_

She willed them to choke on their food. Her lettuce was limp and the tomatoes were hard; the croutons were stale. Heather frowned at her plate as the others dug in on their cheeseburgers and patty melts. Even if she wasn’t watching her, already perfect thank you very much, figure, there was no way she could stomach the heavy, greasy dishes on the menu. The little white pills her ‘date’ had told her would make the sex later that much more ‘tubular’, were just making her feel light headed, queasy, and shaky. Heather tried to keep her hands busy to stop them from shaking.

“Yeah, my dad’s pushing me for Princeton, but you know, I just want to do my own thing.” her companion accidentally let a half chewed up fry fall from his mouth; he turned to her. “Huh? Were you saying something?”

“I said: I’m. Not. Feeling. Well.” Heather told him, holding her stomach with both hands. “Can you just take me home now?”

“What? Come on Holly, we just got here-”

“Heather.” Heather reminded him, her teeth bared slightly as she refrained from tearing off his head. How dare he?! Didn’t he know who he was talking to?

“Oh yeah. We can go back to my place after this.”

“No.” Heather sent him a tight lipped smile. “I don’t feel good, because the shit you gave me. You’re responsible if I keel over and fucking die on this table. Take. Me. Home.”

The boy put down his fries and leaned over close. “Not. Now.”

“Excuse me?!”

“If you want to, walk. Actually, just go ahead now if you’re not up to party anymore.” he turned back to his oblivious buddies. Heather stared at him in furious shock before jumping from the table, grabbing her hand bag, stomping on his foot, nearly knocking over a waitress balancing her trays, and marching off to the bathroom, angry tears streaming and hair flying in her face as she slammed the door shut and locked it.

“Fucking, stupid pieces of shit!” Heather cursed through gritted teeth as she ran cold water at full blast; she pressed her trembling hands on the sides of the sink and held in a scream. No point in getting upset, not over this. He’d get his later. But right now she was more concerned over whether her hands were shaking because she was fighting the impulse to punch her smudged reflection or from the pill.

After a moment of silence Heather calmed down and checked herself in the mirror and her fury rose to new heights; her hair was tangled, her make up faded, the angry tears and the sweat gathering at her forehead was making her neat mascara and eyeliner run underneath her eyelids. Heather clenched her fists and bit her tongue so hard she was sure it might bleed.

 _“I can’t believe I sucked off that loser.”_ she glared and yearned for some toothpaste, a toothbrush, and two gallons of bleach. _“At least wash up you pig.”_

“Stupid, stupid, jackass losers.” she mumbled, her voice growing in tone as she struggled to get a grip back on the roll of paper towels. They slipped right out of her hands and fell to the dirty tile floor; she only managed to tear off an almost miniscule corner of a sheet, not nearly enough to wipe her eyes and face clean.

Heather tossed it with a childish huff into the garbage bin overflowing with used towels.

“Stupid.”

She decided to say fuck it and turn off the towel; who cares if a bunch of drunk bumpkins saw her walk out of there with runny makeup and messy hair? Heather bit her lips harder and gasped a second later. Now her top two teeth were stained red from her lipstick.

“Stupid!” she grabbed at the handles, her hands were practically vibrating and she couldn’t seem to curl her fingers tight enough over the cold metal to shut off the blasting water. With a muffled screech of frustration, Heather swung at one of them to push it to the right; it budged maybe half a centimeter and managed to now make her hand throb with dull pain.

Heather sucked in a deep breath as if preparing to scream. She screwed up her eyes and fought against it; she was in control. So what if she wasn’t feeling so great? The effects would probably just wear off, she could wait it out a few more minutes. The night was shitty, that was for sure, but what did one lousy halfassed date compare to her life every single day?

So what if she sucked off a guy she had just met to bolster her reputation, to prove that she could and would and escape unscathed and still come out on top? She was hot, gorgeous, rich, confident, and worshipped like a goddess come to life to the moment she she woke up to the minutes before she fell asleep in her bed that cost more than most people’s cars? What was one night of temporary discomfort? Some pathetic bitch was walking around with nothing, because she had it all!

Heather watched, eyes unblinking as the water flowed out the sink and splashed against the basin, flowing into the pipes, rushing, spiraling, going down, down, down, down.

_“Stupid.”_

She hung her head when she caught sight of her own gaze and let her hair fall over her shoulders in a heap to block out any other sights. She breathed harshly.

“Fucking stupid…..”

 _“Well damn.”_ Mel closed the bathroom door and sighed quietly; she straightened her uniform and strode over to where Sheila was behind the bar.

“Sheila, let me pick up your section? Those guys are getting antsy waiting for beer.”

Sheila looked tiredly at the entrance where another group of men were coming in, probably straight from a late shift by the look of their uniforms. “Wednesday and the place is packed...okay Mel, carry that.” she nodded to the tray of bottles; Mel smiled and dutifully went to deliver it to the rowdy bunch near the back of the dining floor.

“Hey guys, sorry for the wait.” Mel carefully placed one bottle to each of them; the one at the end gave her a roguish grin and was about to open his mouth, but the smile turned to a grimace as the bottle tipped in her grasp and splashed on his front.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry sir!” Mel fumbled with the bottle and snatched a napkin from her apron. “Let me, I’m so sorry, I’m such a klutz!”

The boy seemed at a loss for words as she leaned over and patted his shirt to semi dryness.

“So, sorry-oh look, it got on the seat!” Mel leaned over even further and dabbed at the spot next to him; the other boys were looking around her, eyes fixated on her backside raised in the air. “There we go, all clean! Here, let me get you an unopened one, on the house.” she gave them all a sheepish grin. “Be right back!”

“Oh, sure!” the boy gave his friends a cocky grin as Mel walked away, hips swaying to the music blaring over the radio speakers.

“Dude, you going to get her digits when she comes back?”

“Boys, boys, patience.” he told his friend and straightened up his shirt. “You can’t rush these things, no matter how easy they look.”

Sheila looked at Mel warily as she sauntered over with a thumbs up. “I’m expecting you to pay me back for that.”

“Take it out of my paycheck.” Mel said with a grin as she picked up the phone, went around the bar and made a call. Maybe ten minutes later two cops entered the bar about the same time as Heather came out of the bathroom. Mel saw her and went to her side to pull her back to the side.

“Hey, hands off waitress!”

Mel sighed. “Heather was it? You might not want to go over there.”

Before she could retort, Heather’s sharp eyes landed on the table; a cop was already pushing her date against the wall, cuffing him and reading his Miranda rights while the other examined a bag of weed in the dim light.

“Dude, it’s not mine!”

“Son, that’s what the all say.” the first cop made sure the cuffs were secure. “At any rate, you resisted arrest. If you’re smart, you’d cooperate.”

“But-hey, Holly!” the boy spotted Heather next to Mel. “Hey, hey officer, that girl was with me all night, she’ll tell you!”

“It’s Heather you-!”

“Officer, this girl just ran into the bathroom crying.” Mel out an arm over Heather’s stiff shoulders, digging her fingers in and trying to silently tell her to shut up and let her do the talking. Luckily Heather seemed to get the message and her mouth shut like a slammed door.

The officer waited until the boys were all escorted outside. “Miss, did you make the call?”

Mel nodded and glanced at Heather. “This girl said as soon as she saw the bag in his pocket she got scared. She’s a minor you know, thought that burnout was some nice boy.” Mel shook her head sadly. “Please sir, she’s been through a lot tonight.”

“I think we’ve got what we need. Thank you for doing your civic duty miss, most people wouldn’t take possession of marijuana so seriously; ignorant of the dangers you see.”

Mel smiled shyly. “Oh of course sir. I’m just going to take this poor girl to the bathroom and get her cleaned up. Come on Heather sweetie, we'll just get you right fixed up, don't you give those druggies a second thought.”

She tried not to run off too fast as the cop began to talk with Sheila; she smirked a little as soon as the bathroom door was closed. Sheila wasn’t too keen to give up her boon, but it was for a good cause.

“Heather, sorry to drag you, but if you said the wrong thing, those cops would’ve found me out.” Mel pressed her ear against the door and locked it, satisfied no one was listening in. “God, what pricks. How’d you end up with those bums?”

Heather was standing stock still in the middle of the bathroom. “What-what the hell? What did you-?”

“Sh.” Mel put a finger to her lips and drew closer. “Not so loud, someone might hear. Look, don’t worry, the cops totally bought it. I mean, those guys probably do carry shit on them anyway, I probably didn’t even need to plant anything.” she snickered and leaned back on the sink. “Just hang in here for a few more minutes until they leave....hey, are you okay?”

Heather shoved her hands under her arms. “I’m fine. Just get to the point.”

“Huh?”

“What do you want? Money? Well forget it, I don’t owe you a damn thing-”

“Whoa, hold on buddy.” Mel put up a hand. “Christ, I’m not some blackmailer.”

“Oh, so you usually plant bags of pot in a stranger’s pocket for free? Is that a fun night for you?”

“No! Well...they were assholes, so it was kinda fun.” Mel admitted. “Don’t tell me you’re mad at me for pranking your man?”

“He is not my anything. He’s just some loser I thought was worth a fuck, but he’s a low class idiot who gave me some bad shit. Can’t even get a girl high.” Heather glared coldly, as if daring Mel to judge her. “I would have done way worse and I will once he’s out of jail.”

“Okay, okay. Add another spot of blood to that scrunchie.” Mel patted down her uniform skirt. “So, I’m going to take a wild guess and say your hands shaking like an addict is a side effect of the bad shit?”

“It’ll wear off.”

Mel glanced at the sink, still halfway on. “Can you grip anything?”

“No. I don’t care, I don’t need to clean up right now.”

Mel scratched her cheek. “Hey, I bet you usually go to places with those bathroom attendants.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.”

“Sorry to disappoint. Did you think he was taking you to one of those places?”

Heather slumped down the wall until she was sitting; she didn’t even care if it was dirty, she was so tired and sick. Her whole night was a bust; besides, the dress was a week old. She narrowed her blurry eyes as Mel took the roll of paper towels, ripped a handful out, and dampened it in water before turning off the sink. Heather nearly jumped when Mel crouched down in front of her.

“What are you doing?!”

Mel looked at her strangely. “Can you wipe your own face? I mean, I’m no official bathroom attendant, but I can adapt. Call it an apology for letting riff-raff into our humble establishment.” she joked wryly and held up the wet towels.

“You should be. This place is filthy, the lights are dim as shit, and the food is processed shit.”

“Wow, you curse a lot for someone so classy. Sorry, tell me if I’m too rough.” Mel said absently as she took the towel to Heather’s forehead, pushing her hair off her skin.

“And Budweiser? Who drinks that swill?” Heather muttered ruefully, leaning her head back to let Mel get under her chin. “And don’t poke my eyes.”

“So, what do you drink?”

“Rum and coke.”

“I can make you one when you’re of age to drink.” Mel said cheerfully. “Sorry, I have to steady you” she gently took Heather’s sharp chin in her other hand. “Boy, that stuff must be bad, your whole face is red as a your dress. At least it matches, right?”

“Fuck off. At least I have a sense of fashion. What are you even wearing? And pink? What are you five?”

Mel shrugged and dabbed at her red eyes. “Well, it is the uniform. What’s wrong with pink? It’s basically red, just lighter.”

“There is a world of difference.”

“Okay.” Mel shrugged. “You know, Sheila told me the color red is supposed to mean passionate love and pink is supposed to be romantic love. I don’t know where people get time to come up with that crap, but there you have it. How’s your hands?”

“Super.”

“Still shaking then? How’s your stomach? You look peaky.” Mel glanced around. “Do you have a brush?”

“I never met a bathroom attendant who asked so many stupid questions.”

“Asking if you’re well is stupid? Geez, if this is how you react to a stranger being concerned, I can only imagine the ribbing your friends get.”

“They’ll get my heel up their fat asses. They ditched me when they realized their dates were duds.” Heather seethed but managed to gesture to her hand bag. “My brush is in the biggest pocket and don’t you dare yank my hair or I’ll rip out yours.”

Mel smiled wanly. “It’s funny, I can’t seem to understand why they left you on your own.”

“Blow it up your asshole.”

Mel sighed and sat behind Heather; she began brushing out the very tips of her hair. _“Geez, what am I doing? Well, she’s just a kid still….I mean, even if she’s a grade A bitch, that was still pretty rank of her friends to leave her with those creeps.”_

“Those traitors. They’ll get their’s tomorrow.”

“Heather, did it occur to you that maybe they left because they think you’d do the same to them?”

“I would.”

“Oh.” Mel didn’t know what else to say so she occupied herself with running the brush down in slow, cautious strokes. “Anyway, how are you feeling?”

“Not half as much as shit.” Heather stared straight ahead, willing herself to relax and not relax at the same time. “So what, you’re a waitress by night and a clerk by day or something?”

“Something like that.” Mel told her. “My shifts switch around, but I’m usually done at 7-Eleven by the late afternoon and work here weekends and mornings. Depends on who needs me at the time.”

“Wow, so glad I asked. Do you ever stop talking?”

“Sometimes. Okey dokey, the cops should be gone now.” Mel could only hear the sounds of dining and the lyrics of Blondie outside the door. When she strained to listen, she could hear someone was singing along. Poorly.

Mel handed back the brush and was pleased to see her reluctant acquaintance could hold it and place it back securely in her bag. Heather stood up on shaky legs, but Mel didn’t move to help her as she made for the door.

 _“You’re welcome…”_ Mel decided to let it go; she really hadn’t gotten the impression Heather was the grateful sort. Besides, it was pretty funny.

“What do you want?”

Mel rolled her eyes. “Nothing, god, cool your jets. Look, from what I can tell, you’re about as nice as a rabid dog, but that was still messed up what that guy did or how his shitty buddies just kept quiet. You didn’t deserve that. No one does. It has nothing to do with how you feel; I did what I wanted because I saw some jerk off treat a person like shit and it didn’t sit well with me.”

Heather frowned, still looking suspicious and more like the girl Mel had first seen at 7-Eleven; she supposed this meant she was feeling more like herself.

“And you have to admit, it was pretty sweet.” Mel grinned. “Like, the cops here are kinda suckers.”

Heather opened her mouth but snapped it back closed before turning away. “I’d say not to tell anyone about this, but I doubt you know anyone who matters.”

“Only to me.” Mel called out to her. Sheila came out from behind the bar as soon as she saw Heather come out from the bathroom.

“Hey sweetie, do you need a ride home? Or you can use our phone.”

“I’m going to call my driver.”

“Alrighty, phone’s right there.”

Heather dialed and tapped her foot impatiently; Mel sidled behind the bar and took out a bottle of Budweiser and cracked it open on the counter top. Heather looked at it in distaste before listening closely to the dial tone. Mel was moving her hips to the music and singing the words in a way that almost sounded like a soft hum.

“Ooooooh, amore, chiamami, chiamami~” Mel sang softly as she began cutting up lemons and limes. “Ooooooh, appelle moi mon cherie, appelle moi.”

“Do you even know what you’re squawking?” Heather asked nastily over the dial tone.

“Nope. Sounds nice though.” Mel said carelessly while she discarded the little ends of each fruit; Heather rolled her eyes in thinly veiled irritation. “What, and you do?”

“She’s speaking French and Italian . She’s saying for them to call her.”

“Duh. I could figure that out.”

Heather flipped her off as she talked to her chauffeur; not five minutes later she was out the door, in the car, and driving to her luxurious home to sleep off her hangover and the bad effects of the pills without so much as a thank you.

“What a bitch.” Sheila commented lightly; she gave Mel a slap on the back. “I mean, wow, I almost see why that guy was willing to make her walk home.”

“Yeah, but he was the one who made her sick in the first place.” Mel said as she cut slits into the lemon and limes slices. “I heard her crying in the bathroom.”

Sheila’s face fell. “Oh...oh sweetie. I’m sorry.”

“Oh no, I’m fine. I just felt bad. She sounded so upset. I don’t know, maybe Gary’s rubbing off on me; if he were here, he’d have just tossed them out on their asses himself.” Mel chuckled and began looking for the tequila.

“Tell you what, you only have to pay back half of that bag.” Sheila said as she gave her a one armed hug. “Looking out for that poor kid was nice to do. God, you think her parent would be wondering what she’s doing out so late with a bunch of college aged guys.”

“She comes from money; you know those types, they always seem off on some fancy vacation thing.” Mel replied.

“I guess I can see how a girl could end up how she is, but still, she could have at least said thank you.” Sheila said; slower to anger and generally more easy going than her husband, it took a bit more to ruffle her feathers.

“Yeah, but them’s the breaks.” Mel laughed and took a swig from her bottle. “I’m surprised she didn’t bite me in the bathroom; you know what they say about putting sick or wild animals in enclosed spaces….”

“Oh god, that’s terrible.”

“It’s honest.” Mel remarked. “Seriously, I don’t know what’s up that girl’s ass. She talks funny, like, I kept trying not to laugh. You don’t expect a kid looking proper like her to have a foul mouth.”

“Maybe no one’s washed it out with soap, if you get my drift.”

Mel nodded in understanding. “You know, Jason talks like he’s twice his age. Kids seem to...I mean, it’s like they’re growing up faster than ever...but...they’re not? I don’t know, maybe I’m just overthinking things.”

“One thing's sure, it’s difficult to be that age.” Sheila said as she moved past Mel to fill a man’s glass. “They’re not really kids anymore, but they’re not adults either. They can go to war and have sex and get up to all sorts of things we do, but a lot of them go into it without knowing how or why or what they should do when things get too confusing and tangled up. Sounds like those two kids you’re looking after don’t have the best examples to look to for guidance; you might be the first adult to treat them like they need to be treated.”

“Aw geez Sheila, you make it sound like I’m taking in foster kids or saving the whales or something.” Mel felt her face grow hot as she took the finished margaritas and lemon drops over to the group of women most likely getting a break from the kids; praise from Gary and Sheila never ceased to make her feel embarrassingly giddy.

“No, but you sure are going out of your way for people you just met.”

“It’s not a big deal. Jason needs a place to crash now and then and that Heather chick needed to get away from that guy; I swear, taking advantage of a mixed up kid, that’s just sick, I don’t care how much of a cunt she is. Maybe a little time in the pen will set his ass straight.”

Sheila looked at Mel for a moment. “You have a dark streak.”

“What?”

“Oh don’t get me wrong, you’re sweet as a peach, but when you’re mad, you get vindictive.”

“I’m not vindictive!” Mel said in genuine shock. “Sheila, how can you say that?”

“You do realize that boy might go to prison?”

Mel thought for a moment. “Oh come on, it’s a year in jail tops. Sounds like his daddy has money anyway, so it’ll probably be way less severe for someone like him.”

“True.” Sheila conceded. “That boy will never learn anything if his parents always bail him out.”

“Literally.” Mel commented and downed the rest of her beer with a short belch.

“But the way you talk about that runaway’s daddy is scary.”

“So?”

“You said, and I quote, ‘That rat bastard, I hope he gets alcohol poisoning and drops dead by the time the kid is eighteen and on his own so he makes a clean escape.’ And then you mentioned you hoped he would get eaten by actual rats as he lay rotting in his own shit.”

“...So?”

Sheila blinked slowly. “Nothing sweetie.” she took a few tangerines and began slicing away with a nimble hands. “You’re fine to walk home?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Mel said with some exasperation as she walked away to punch out for the night; one beer was barely enough to make a buzz, but that was Sheila.

The crowd was thinning and she was hardly needed for backup. Mel was actually feeling pretty exhausted; the events of that night sort of caused an adrenaline rush.

Her whole plan had been a spur of the moment decision, one that she realized she should have put more thought into, but hearing someone hold back sobs in the bathroom and being calm was easier said than done. Mel was lucky the cops were so negligent, in addition to being gullible when it came to two young women; it never seemed to even cross their minds that Heather might have taken something, or they summed up her state truly was from fear and exhaustion.

 _“I really need to start thinking beforehand.”_ Mel felt shame creep up on her. What if she had been caught? Sheila would most likely speak up and say who the pot really belonged to, and then what would have happened? _“Calm down girl, everything’s cool for now. Just move on and don’t forget next time you act that you need to listen to that little voice telling you to not be retarded.”_

Mel let down her ponytail and shook out her hair to get rid of the slight ache that came from keeping it bound tight at the back of her head. She sighed happily and made her way through the parking lot to get to the sidewalk that led to home; she was so eager to get moving, she almost didn’t hear the engine purring so close to her right.

"She walks in beauty like the night."

Mel jumped slightly and turned her head while clutching the knife in her purse.

“Whoa, easy there. Not a Byron fan I take it? Maybe you'd prefer I quote Axl Rose?” J. D. put one foot on the ground and put on the brakes; his clothes were so dark, she hadn’t been able to make his profile out for a second. “You can hurt someone with that you know.”

“Oh my god, you scared me!” Mel let out a great relieved breath and dropped her knife back into her pocket. “How long were you riding with your lights off? That’s dangerous!”

“Just until you came out.”

Mel glared at him but couldn’t hold back an amused smile. “I'd like to think you're yanking my chain, but I’m half convinced that’s the only reason you came to meet me.”

“Well, that was the primary reason.” J. D. gave her what might have looked like a disarmingly bashful smile if not for the brief snicker. “The other was to ask if you wouldn’t mind letting me stay the night?”

Mel's smile was gone instantly. "Jason, did something happen? Is everything okay?"

"Ah, you know, this and that." J. D. sat there with a cocked smirk and patted the back of his bike. "Unless, my request has come at a bad time?"

"Oh, it's just-" Mel paused. "Sorry, I don't mean to sound so panicky."

"Hey, it's cool. You look pretty tired." J. D. leaned on the handlebars to peer down at her with a teasing glint to his eyes. "If I can't have you right now, I'll wait dear."


	7. I Took a Wrong Turn and I Just Kept Going

Mel gasped. “Patience!”

J. D. grinned. “You really are a connoisseur.”

“Well, the album only came out in April, so it’s not like it’s hard to forget.” Mel told him. “I was skeptical at first. I’m not as big a fan of their slower songs, but that one is just so mellow, you know? Tugs at the heartstrings too much, even Gary liked it.”

Now that her eyes were adjusting to the dark, Mel could see J. D. had a messenger bag slung over his shoulder. “Did you bring homework?”

“Yeah. Can’t get much done with pop causing a ruckus.” J. D. wagged his finger like an old man. “I got you a surprise too.”

“Sweet! Let’s get to my place first; I need a shower. I smell like grease, cooking oil, and bad whiskey.”

Mel still wasn’t quite used to the motorbike; even with the helmet and J. D.'s decent driving skills, she found herself clinging to him like white on rice. It was only when her feet touched the ground of her driveway that she felt she could properly breathe again; J. D. of course thought this was hilarious, but she appreciated he refrained from smirking too much at her frazzled state.

“You’re going to have a heart attack if you can’t calm down on this.” J. D. patted the bike affectionately and swaggered up to the porch to unlock the door in her stead. Mel followed in after him, dumping her purse on the couch and going to the kitchen.

“Did you have dinner? It’s late, but I can find something…”

“I’m good.” J. D. waved off her concern; he was more preoccupied with searching through his messenger bag. Once he found what he wanted, his face lit up; in his hand was a somewhat small, flat box. “Bingo.”

Mel gulped down a glass of water. “What’s that?”

“Open it.” J. D. strolled over to her and held out the box. “I picked it out special.”

Mel blinked and looked down at the box; it looked like the kind you’d keep a necklace in, but the weight was far too heavy.

“Uh, and I wouldn’t shake it if I was you.”

Mel gave J. D. a questioning look, but he just waited for her move; she smiled slightly and took off the lid. Inside was a small pistol, not that much bigger than a hand.

“Jason?”

“It’s a Ruger GP100 revolver! Double action six shots, easy to conceal, .357 magnum bullets, and does it pack a decent punch.” J. D. was smiling like a little kid; he looked downright giddy. “I was thinking a glock, but this just seemed more your style.”

“Jason it sounds like you put a lot of thought in this, and that I can appreciate, but...why the fuck did you buy me a gun?”

J. D. laughed as if the answer was child’s play to know. “Protection! Come on, gas stations get broken into all the time, held up, and some of the worst scum gravitate to bars. No offense, but that knife won’t do you much good in certain circumstances; this levels the playing field.” 

“Jason, these are dangerous! I can’t just, just carry it around everywhere! It seems pretty extreme-”

“Don’t freak on me Mel. Look here,” J. D. gently took the pistol from her hand. “For one, you probably won’t even need to use it, most people see a gun and that’s enough. The extreme leaves an impression; it’s not like you’re going to go shooting down folks left and right, right?”

“Well no.” Mel still looked decidedly concerned. “But I don’t even know how to shoot. I’ve never held a gun in my life.”

“What’s the big deal? You fill out the paperwork, take a test, learn a few rules, and you’re all set. I’ll take you to the gun range sometime.”

J. D. made it sound like there was no funner activity; Mel tried to think rationally. She never had anything against guns, but she had never sought to own one or make use of Ohio’s open carry laws.

But then, he had made a good point; she did feel anxious and on edge walking to and from work at nights. It would make her feel more secure knowing she had more than a somewhat flimsy knife if something really bad were to happen.

“Jason, where’d you even get this from?”

“This guy from one of my dad’s work sites. He gave me a good deal, even threw in the bullets free.” J. D. put the gun back inside the box and closed the lid. “Mel, it’s okay.” his voice was comparatively gentler. “You act like I’m planting drugs in your-”

“What?” Mel asked in a hushed whisper.

“What?” J. D. frowned. “Look, in the right hands, a gun is just a gun. I wanted to find a way to thank you Mel...you’re fighting for me. I wanted to do something to repay you, something to give you the peace of mind you’re giving me.”

“Oh. Jason, don’t feel like you have to pay me back. It’s not a big deal, really.”

“You’re giving me a place to go when shit goes down at home.” J. D.’s chuckle was bitter. “This place feels more like home in the past week than anywhere else I’ve ever been.”

Mel frowned sadly. “I’m...god Jason, I don’t mean to bum you out, but I’m kind of sorry to hear that.”

“Hey, shit happens, right? But it’s true.” J. D. held out the box. “Take it Mel, for me? If something happens to you…”

“I understand.” Mel smiled sympathetically. “It is kinda cool looking. Easy to store...I, uh, like the wooden handle.”

“Thought it was your style.” J. D. clapped his hands together. “If it makes you feel better, leave it unloaded and in a hiding spot until we can get you those papers.”

Mel nodded and went to her room to find a good spot; in a way, she realized the present seemed to be for both her and J. D.’s benefit. After all, if something did happen to her, where would that leave him? He didn’t seem comfortable enough to go to Gary or Sheila for any help and god knows he couldn’t rely on his dad or anyone else. From the few times he had told her about school, aside from a few classmates he could admit he didn’t dislike, it seemed like J. D. still had yet to make a single friend.

 _“It does still feel a bit much, but then, if I was in his place, I’d be terrified of anything happening to_ _Sheila or Gary.”_ Mel stowed away the box and cringed as the bullets rattled around the bottom. _“If anything happened to them now, I’d be able to survive on my own, but they’re the only people who ever cared about me...I don’t know what I’d do if I lost them.”_

Besides, it wasn’t like she was some trigger happy nut job; Mel was more than eager to know the regulations and safety guidelines in case of an emergency. And it wasn’t like Gary hadn’t suggested a single woman living alone like her wouldn’t benefit from having a gun of some sort in the house; the conversation had just never gone far enough to materialize results.

It really wasn’t even the gun that made her concerned. It was J. D.

 _“Oh stop that crap.”_ Mel told herself as she fixed up the bed for him to sleep in. _“It’s not so strange. Most men are into guns and have them. Gary has a shot gun in his basement. My old man had one in the den. It’s a practical gift too and it’s something he seems to know a lot about.”_

Mel couldn’t help feel touched; it was incredibly sweet in a way, to know J. D. was concerned for her safety enough to take initiative himself. To want her to feel more secure showed he had really come to rely on her and he obviously must have trusted her if he thought she was capable of handling a firearm.

 _“And what he was saying, it was just an expression.”_ Mel wanted to laugh at herself; J. D. would have no way of knowing what had happened earlier. She kicked her pile of dirty clothes to the corner of her closet to make things look a bit less cluttered when her toe hit something heavier than clothes, but lighter than a shoe. Mel knelt down to dig through the clothes pile; between her jobs and going out, she really didn’t have too much time to organize, but she basically knew where everything was.

“What the...oh.”

“Everything okay?” J. D. had come to stand by the door frame. “Are you sure you don’t want me to sleep on the couch?”

“Oh no, you’re my guest! I’m fine, just...just clearing things up.”

J. D. came closer and looked down at her; Mel was holding a pair of headphones in her hands, thin and black colored plastic. One of the ear speakers was gone and the headband part to hold it over the user’s scalp was wrapped in duct tape.

“Those yours?”

“No.” Mel shook her head. “Well, they were.”

J. D. couldn’t see her expression; her hair was down and veiling her profile.

“Do they work?”

“Oh no. They’ve been broken for years now.” Mel told him; she stood up, headphones still in hand. She paused and looked into the closet before placing them on the top shelf close to the light drawstring. “Jason, is everything okay at home? I figure if you wanted to just give me that present you’d have done it some other time.”

“Well, my pop was giving me some grief. It’s all good though, I fed him a story about a friend letting me stay the night.”

“And I’m guessing he didn’t ask for a number to reach you or anything.”

“Nope. Works for me though.” J. D. smiled thinly; he waited for her response, but all she did was nod shortly. “Mel?”

“Sorry Jason. I know maybe you’re not phased, but...it just seems so wrong to me. I know I don’t know that much about you...but no kid deserves to be treated like that, not by family.”

J. D. walked a bit closer; he reached down to push her hair back like a curtain. Her eyes were vacant and glistening; with a weak smile, she glanced at him from the corner of her vision. “Sorry Jason. The last thing you need is another adult falling apart on you.”

“Mel-”

“Don’t worry about me. And thank you, for the gift. I can’t wait to try it out at the range.” Mel kept her eyes not quite on his face. “You should go to bed, it’s a school night-”

“I’m not a kid.”

Mel stopped. “Oh Jason, I didn’t mean-”

“I know what you mean.” J. D. had pulled his hand away with an almost mockingly serious face and she couldn’t decide if he was actually offended or not; she really couldn’t tell what he was thinking herself. “I mean, yeah, I guess to you I am still a kid. But I’m not a child. You get it Mel? You can be sad. I think I can handle it.” he smiled wryly. “This is your place, last time I checked.”

Mel tried to smile. “I hope I didn’t patronize you.”

“Hey, no harm done. And don’t put on a happy face on my account.” J. D. moved back a step. “After everything you’ve done for me-if you’re sad, just go on and cry if you need to.”

“Deal.”

Mel nodded. She put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed before walking out of the room. In the brief moment their eyes met, she let herself smile. In the dim room he had only been in once before, she smiled with genuine affection this time. The smile looked unburdened, unguarded, yet troubled all the same as the corners of her faintly glossy lips came to meet with the restrained sadness in her eyes as they mixed with the warmth.

It was painful to look at.

“Goodnight Jason. Get some sleep, okay?”

A playful salute. “Yes ma’am.”

It was painful to look away.

J. D. wondered just how much of a kid she’d still think he was if she were to come back in the room not twenty minutes after all the lights were off, to walk in on him under the covers, nose buried in her pillow, and hand down his pants.

But as it were, the only signs she was still up came from the sound of the shower running in the bathroom; there was no chance of her needing to come back to the room, having already taken a fresh pair of clothes from the drawers to take with her. After that, all he could hear was the soft sounds of Mel’s radio coming down the hall from the living room.

_“I met her in a Kingstown bar, we fell in love I knew it had to end….~”_

J. D. was glad Mel liked to listen to music without headphones most of the time. As far as he could see, she didn’t have a Walkman. Maybe it wasn’t necessary or maybe it was just because she hadn’t thought to buy one. It sounded like something that might not occur to her.

He could picture her in the living room, sitting up, head leaning back to stare at the ceiling as she closed her eyes and took in the beat and the singing and tried to pick out every instrument being used. She’d probably turn it off soon, or just turn it down, thinking he’d be asleep by then or it was disturbing him. But it couldn’t be farther from the truth.

_“Everybody needs a place to rest, everybody wants to have a home. Don’t make no difference what nobody says...ain’t nobody like to be alone~”_

J. D. wished she made mix tapes or burned CDs with all her favorite songs; he could listen to them and listen and hear her and understand her better than anyone else ever might. He was glad she played her beloved tunes for all to hear, to memorize the lyrics and the way she swung her hips and bobbed her head and smiled when the song was particularly good. He wanted to hear for himself the thoughts and feelings and words she might not be able to say, or otherwise didn’t feel necessary to tell him.

He wanted to know what her world sounded like; he was quite sure it sounded much more pleasant than anything in his own.

But he’d have to be patient; in many senses they were still strangers. With a tired sigh, J. D. wiped his hand on the handkerchief he used to cover his gun and heard Mel get up to turn off the radio. The floorboards were creaky and sank in some places; he could hear her every move from the bed. How long would it be until she felt comfortable sharing it with him? It was her bed and it was obvious she was trying to hold something back from him, hiding something, and keeping him in the dark for whatever purpose.

J. D. was planning to wait patiently; he was already a year over the age of consent, so the only reason he could think of Mel prolonging the inevitable was out of some sort of personal hangup.

 _“God, she needs to lighten up and get over it sooner or later, or how are we ever going to get this ball rolling?”_ J. D. frowned to himself as an ugly thought reared in his head.

He had seen Heather Chandler leave the bar and get into her nice car and drive off to her nice house just minutes before meeting Mel, tight red dress, killer heels, and a face like she had been knocked sideways into a dream. Probably from one too many drinks (she would have gotten them from men who didn’t care how old she was) but that wasn’t the odd thing; it was too out of place.

J. D. had seen mega bitches like the Heathers come and go in his high school ventures, and he was certain this one would most definitely never set foot in a place like Sheila’s without a gun being held to her head. That, or some ulterior motive. The missing puzzle piece formed in the shape of Heather exiting the greasy joint alone. No friends, no date, nothing. J. D. assumed she wouldn’t want to be caught dead in a place like that, but then, what would she even being doing there?

He wasn’t delusional. J. D. was aware the deductions being drawn in his head were far fetched; there was no substantial evidence to back up his train of thought. J. D. turned on his side and hugged the pillow, nose pressed in the pillowcase as he willed himself to rest and plan for his next move before jumping to conclusions. In the morning or even later, he could talk to Mel and his suspicions would be confirmed or denied, though he was sure it was the latter. After all, Heather Chandler had no way of knowing where Mel worked; she didn’t know a thing about her.

J. D. would make sure to keep it that way.


	8. Somebody Dear to Me

**Author's Note: This song isn't from the 80's. Guess where it's from and you get a Slurpee. ;3 Enjoy!**

The marks from Mel still stung a bit in the morning; J. D. had rolled over on his stomach as he slept, making them ache from the pressure put on the still healing indents, the pangs of pain shaking him from his sleep. The nails were just sharp enough to break skin, and he was surprised none of the pink polish she wore didn’t rub off on his shirt as she sunk her nails in. Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t think of a time a girl had pressed up against him like that.

J. D. surveyed the damage properly; he had been too tired and eager to give her the present the other night to give the stinging much thought. It was a welcome sort of pain; not distracting enough to overwhelm, but enough to feel oddly comforting. It didn’t dull his senses. It was like being slapped awake.

 _“Well looky here…”_ J. D. laid back with a yawn and a lazy smile, letting his shirt slip back down. “ _Kitty has claws.”_

The clock said six on the dot. There was plenty of time to get ready and take his bike to school; he’d make sure to ask Mel if she wanted a ride if she was working at the 7-Eleven.

It blowed they had such different schedules. J. D. took the extra time to breathe his favorite scent and relax; his hand trailed down to push up the hem of his shirt, the tips of his fingers lightly trailing over the red marks. Maybe someday soon there’d be more on his back and shoulders, thin and bright red and jolting him to consciousness; instead of waking up in solitude waiting for the time to get ready to trudge to school, he’d be lying in the same bed, scooted over to make room for one more, and nowhere else they needed to be.

Was that life after high school? No strict schedules, no strange and diluted, (yet no less hostile) teen hierarchy, no one telling him to pack up his unpacked bags and another car trip to who know’s where else?

It could all be so different. Planting roots and making memories, getting familiar with names and faces without having to scratch his dulled mind to remember them.

And someone to come home to who he saw every day and could hold an actual, relaxed conversation with. Someone who remembered him and knew him, maybe even better than he knew himself in ways he didn’t think anyone could. Someone who made him feel tangible and solid.

Some days he pondered on that. Could a person exist if no one knew of them, no one knew their name or face or that they even _were_? And what about the endless number of people who died, leaving no trace, no one, nothing at all to say they were alive? Because now they were dead and gone; they might as well have never existed.

And J. D. couldn’t help think, what if he were to die, today or tomorrow or just whenever? Only his dad would realize when he noticed his car lacked one less suitcase on the way to the next state over.

J. D. doubted he would live on in his memory. Bud never liked to even mention his deceased wife. J. D. was under the impression they might have loved each other at some point; if his mom didn’t, then why would she be so distressed enough to kill herself? To be driven to that extreme, she must have been in pain, but someone can’t feel that kind of pain unless they had something wonderful taken from them. J. D. wondered what she must have been thinking in those last moments as she took the time to wave goodbye. Him and Bud? Did her life flash before her eyes? Was it quick? Was she scared or did she just take one last breath, spare her son a moment of her now limited time, and accept it?

Was she finally happy?

One thing was for sure, when he died, no one would even be left to remember her. What was the point of injecting himself into lives and places he’d leave without a trace in less than even half a year? Especially when it seemed to always be the same in the worst possible ways; the same bullies and nerds and elites and losers caught in a vicious cycle of eat or be eaten.

Then there were the people like him, rejects through and through, yet somehow J. D. had succeeded in being even lower on the totem pole. He was a temporary reject, a perpetual new kid; the best scenario was for mildly curious peers to ask a few obligatory and politely interested questions about where he was from last and then leave him to his own devices.

And J. D. did enjoy his devices. His wires and pliers, his glock and cartridges of bullets and his Slurpees. An odd assortment, but they were his. They made him feel good. They were constants. Nothing wrong with that. Didn’t everyone need constants, things they and look to for a sense of familiarity when everything else in the world wasn’t, when there was nothing else to turn to and when the people who were supposed to catch you weren’t strong enough to hold on for just a little longer?

But it wasn’t a big deal. After all, some people had books or music or games or clothes. J. D. had some choice literature himself actually.

And he also had guns, bombs, and 7-Eleven. Different strokes for different folks.

Mel liked music. Loved it. It was obvious she adored the strum of a guitar and the beat of a deep bass as much as he did the designs and power of a bouncing betty’s or a cherry bomb.

J. D. wondered if she was just a music fan or whether it was something she adopted, something that held her together.  

And Mel was held together. She actually seemed happy. She worked hard and drank hard and sang loudly and danced in time and made stupid jokes and things went over her head to the point J. D. wasn’t surprised she didn’t finish school or feel the need to. She worried over things she didn’t need to and tried to be funny, but when people laughed, it was sometimes at her, not with her, and she frankly ate like a pig and she really, really, needed to be more careful about the people she let in.

But that was okay.

J. D. could handle all that. Those things weren’t the problem. What made him perplexed was that despite all these observations, he didn’t know a thing about her. He surmised from what he had heard was she was once a kid with barely any experience or options who had to be desperate and a little stupid to run away from everything. It could have been easier for her to wait it out until college or when she could just move away at eighteen. It was the smart thing, the patient thing to do, but for some reason, Mel took a leap of faith and decided to take a path that could have gone a whole different direction.

It seemed Mel took most things by faith. Faith she would find a place to sleep, faith she would survive, faith Heather Chandler wasn’t as much of a huge cunt then she was, and faith he wasn’t some two faced punk who would take advantage of her kindness. All these evaluations were made on blind, unjustified faith or gut instinct with no foolproof, indisputable logic behind the reasoning. It was miraculous she was doing as well as she was.

But that was okay too.

J. D. knew she wasn’t perfect. But neither was he. He wasn’t stupid. He knew he wasn’t quite right. He knew he had scratches and dents and damage. He knew he wasn’t entirely okay and she wasn’t either.

So was it really so crazy they’d be okay together? Mel was there and real and she cared about him.

J. D. tried to think hard, tried to reach into every corner of his mind for some shred of a memory of someone who had come close to that. It was a bit hard to swallow when he really took the time to care. Had there really been no one else until this point?

Maybe on a good day his dad. Maybe. His mother did, once, but evidently it wasn’t enough. Aside from that, J. D. had to say, it seemed true that there was no one else and when he realized it, it almost made him depressed. Had he really been such a shadow all this time? Had he really been that insignificant? The thought made him want to drink ten slushies in consecutive order.

But then he remembered: there was someone. Maybe they weren’t there before, they couldn’t be, but they were there now. Someone who was real, not part of the strange little society of teens who were children in adults clothes and attitudes, or at least pretended to be. Someone who had voluntarily made him a part of their own life in a way J. D. couldn’t decide whether he liked or not.

Mel looking after him, joking with him, scolding him, fussing over him, and getting angry and upset on his behalf were things he liked. A lot, actually.

And when her lackadaisical voice turned sharp and her placid eyes burned, it didn’t just make his spine tingle, his palms sweat, and his pants involuntarily tight; though J. D. wasn’t sure if he could name the sensation with just one or two words, he supposed if he had to absolutely had to pick, the first thing to pop up would be warmth. Warmth in his fingers and toes and his belly and his chest and his face, almost like coming inside a heated building when it’s chilly out or being submersed head to foot in a hot bath.

To be protected was maybe the single most awkward and confusing and embarrassing and pulse pounding and wonderful thing he had felt in a long time.

That’s where the gun came in, partially for admittedly self serving reasons. If anything happened to her, where would that leave him? It was unthinkable for Mel to just not exist, not as things were. It was far too late to simply just forget and go on. How could he? How could he go back to his definition of a ‘normal’ life when she had found him, when Mel had forced him to see what normal could be? So, yes, part of it was for his own benefit, but since it was also aiding Mel, then it must have been an acceptably normal way of thinking.

J. D. knew he wasn’t _normal_ per say. But he could enjoy the things everyone else did, right? Couldn’t he like someone, be happy when he saw them, and want to share things with her and wonder what things she liked?

And maybe to Mel it wasn’t normal now, but what if she came to see him in a whole new light?

J. D. knew he wasn’t unattractive; he could be appealing. If not for his new kid status and disregard for his peers, he was certain he could have at the least gotten a girl to look at him twice. The mystery kid vibe might have worked too, but J. D. knew Mel wouldn’t take the bait, because to her, he was just that. A kid, a stranger, and one with serious issues at that.

But she did like him. She said he was smart and good looking and talented and tough. And mature. And if that wasn’t working to J. D.’s advantage, she knew he could take care of himself, clean and cook, and hold an engaging conversation. She had actually assumed with no input from him that he was popular with girls, so Mel must have seen some merit in him as more than a stray kid she let stay over.

What if she was just as uncertain? J. D. bet his life she would try to forcibly shove down any attraction, which J. D. was confident  they could overcome. He’d be eighteen and on his own before they knew it. He’d leave his old life behind, wave goodbye to his dad as he moved on to the next town alone. J. D. could easily envision them waking up side by side, his back scratched and her hips sore, but both of them satisfied and comfortable in Mel’s bedroom-

No, correction. _Their_ bedroom, being the next and last place he would ever unpack his belongings. After that, he’d toss the suitcase straight into the trash. Leaving their love nest wasn’t on the table. Or maybe he would keep it if Mel wanted to go somewhere out of town for the honeymoon. J. D. knew some places in the country she’d get a kick out of.

These things were so real now. They could be real.

They _would_ be real.

There was no way the possibility hadn’t at least briefly passed through Mel’s mind. J. D. wouldn’t dismiss the notion, not when there was such a good chance she had looked at him as more than a kid or watched him cook and thought how nice it would be to have a man like him to help her and keep her company in that old house.

J. D. felt a laugh threaten to escape from his mouth and held the pillow tighter to contain himself; he could faintly hear music down the hall.

What if Mel was listening to a love song and thought of him?

Later that day, when school had been little more than blip in his radar, he had nearly gotten into a crash in the parking lot rushing to leave. He didn’t get a chance to talk to her much that morning; apparently Sheila had a sort of emergency she needed her for at the bar and Mel only had time to cook him eggs sunnyside up with slightly burnt toast before rushing out the door.

J. D. was glad to have the helmet covering his smiling face as he sped down the streets; he almost ran a red light. Mel should be working now; it was really a shame he couldn’t visit her at the bar. J. D. was pretty sure at seventeen, he wouldn’t even be allowed to sit at the counter. Mel herself might not allow it, thinking he should be home and studying for his bright future, not lounging around a dive bar on a school night.

Didn’t she understand? This was their future. It was already in motion; J. D. just had to tread lightly for the time being. He almost didn’t go to see her that night at all; it might have been too much. He had wanted to go to her work after school, but it made more sense to go home, fly through his homework and any chores before riding off to her place.

He felt more and more on pins and needles as he drove down the now familiar road to her house; when J. D. saw it come into sight, he couldn’t help speed up. It was like going home after a long, tiring day, except he actually wanted to be there. He didn’t even bother knocking on the door, just let himself in with the key now hung on a chain around his neck, and stepped right in.

“Hey-”

J. D. immediately fell silent; Mel wasn’t in the living room and her shoes weren’t on the welcome mat. And he could hear music. Odd music. It sounded a few decades old and it was faint. A woman’s voice sang softly to the piano, a light tremble in the otherwise sweet, husky soprano. J. D. frowned as he listened; this wasn’t Mel’s music at all. He shut the door quietly behind him and ventured a little farther into the space, ears at attention. The recording was coming from Mel’s room.

 _“I will always think of you, I see your face when each day is through…”_ the voice faded like a sigh. _“And days go past….but memories they last~”_

J. D. carefully made his way down the hall, trying his best not to step on the creakiest parts of the floorboards. The door at the end of the hall was only a inch open, but the smell of whiskey hit his nose like a glass was being held under it. Maybe Mel had spilled a bottle.

_“Summer, winter, year by year, I’ll hear this song inside my ear….try to restart...that’d be smart, but thoughts of you haunt my heart….~”_

“ _What the hell...is that lady here?”_ J. D. remembered that Mel mentioned Sheila and Gary sometimes dropped by in a blue moon. Perhaps one of them had come to check in on the place or watch it while Mel was dealing with the work emergency. This crooning sort of tune sounded more like the old school music Gary would like; Mel often said he disliked most modern artists. J. D. felt a bit on edge; if Mel’s surrogate father was there, would he give him the third degree?

He took a quiet deep breath and peered through the crack in the door; a record was spinning around and around. J. D. didn’t think Mel owned a record player, but there it was, it’s needle keeping the disk on track and the piano gently flowed, the notes breaking the tense silence. Two bottles of Jack Daniel’s, one empty the other half full, sat near the contraption. A glass with only melting ice cubes inside made a wet spot on the table.

Mel was sitting on the edge of the bed, back facing the door. She seemed to be holding something to her chest.

_“It’s her…”_

“Spring and autumn, up and down...I keep trying to escape this town…” she broke off with a melancholy sigh. “I’ll take flight….maybe tomorrow, not tonight…” her voice rose and fell as the record came to a stop.

J. D. stood there, waiting. The piano continued to drift into another soft melody. Mel bent her head and held the mystery object closer to her chest.

“Jason…Jason…”

“Mel?”

She didn’t jump. “Oh, you.”

“The one and only.”

Mel scooted over around to face him; tears were leaking from the corners of her eyes, but she was smiling. “You have jokes...funny.” she laughed weakly and flopped over to the other side of the bed to reach for her glass. The headphones she was cradling switched to one arm as she poured herself another glass. Then out of nowhere, she set the bottle down like it had burned her hand.

“Oh god Jason...I’m so sorry, I-I wasn’t expecting-” Mel’s blurry eyes tried to focus to no avail; she patted her hair and looked at him worriedly. “Oh god, you shouldn’t see-I’m so, so sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

“Mel, it’s cool. It’s not like I gave you warning.” J. D. studied her. “How long have you been drinking?”

“If I can tell you, I haven’t been drinking enough.” Mel giggled again but sobered up just as fast. “You...you should go to the living room. I-I think there might be food, or I can give you money for pizza or-”

“What’s wrong?”

Mel’s mouth trembled and she put a hand to her face. “God, look at me. Isn’t it enough the only other adult in your life is a no good drunk? What a joke, me getting mad at him when I’m just as bad.”

J. D. sat down on the bed slowly. “Yeah, unless you’re taking swings at me, I wouldn’t say that.”

Mel’s eyes glistened; she didn’t seem to have heard him. “I’m so pathetic...I just keep letting people down…Jason...I’m sorry to do this to you. I think...I think you shouldn’t come here anymore.”

J. D. tried to laugh. “Mel, you’re just a little drunk.”

“No. I...I can’t help you.” Mel’s glassy eyes came to look at the broken headphones in her shaky hands. “Jason, grow up okay?”

“What?”

“Grow up. Get out of this town. Get out of this place and go to college or make a career for yourself. Go have the life you deserve. The one he should have had.”

“He?”

“Jason, you have to promise me!” Mel’s voice rose and cracked. “Please, you...you can’t stay, you can’t live this way forever. You have to get out of it. I know you’re smart and strong...but sometimes it’s not enough. The world will take you down anyway because it can. You can’t let it Jason…”

J. D. watched as she let the tears fall down her blotchy cheeks and off her wobbling chin, gaze glued to the headphones; Mel bit her lips and held them closer, like they were her baby.

“Jason, please...please don’t...please….”

“Mel…”

He moved closer and put a hand on hers as she gripped the broken thing closer.

“He should have grown up…”

“Who’s he, Mel?” J. D. whispered so softly he thought she might not have heard him.

“That old bitch’s name was in the obituary today.”

J. D. frowned; was she talking about Sheila?

“That bitch. Sheila showed it to me...thought I should reach out, but why? She never liked me, didn’t give a shit what happened.” Mel ground out lowly. “You know, her and dad never said so, but I knew they always blamed me. They never did like me much. Too chatty, too stupid, they hated my music. He was the favorite. He was smart and funny and cute and he loved their music...he always tried so hard to make them happy…”

J. D. kept a gentle grasp on Mel’s hand as she mumbled drunkenly; it was truly as if she didn’t even realize he was there. But then, nearly two bottles of straight whiskey might do that to a person.

“He was bratty to me, but he liked me best. He knew he didn’t have to be perfect for me Jason, not for me...he knew I loved him.” Mel gave the headphones a watery smile. “But he wasn’t that smart...if you’re riding your bike, you shouldn’t listen to music when you go so fast.”

“Mel...are you talking about your brother?”

“Oh yeah. Little brother. He was...he was nine. Nearly a decade passes and...he still feels so close Jason. After he got hit, they tried to forget him, never talked about him. The guy driving the car had a wife and she died too; he killed himself a few months later, but no one wanted to remember. My parents never talked to me about it, but I knew. They thought I should’ve watched him better. If I knew...I’d have never let him go.”

Mel let out a gasp of a sob and grit her teeth against the well threatening to overflow. “Jason…”

“It’s okay Mel-”

“But it’s true. I did let him down. And how could I just forget that? And today…” Mel glanced at the bottles with a broken smile. “Ya know, I bet your dad drinks to forget like me, but it won’t work. It’s never enough. You drink and drink and you might be happy for a bit, but it’ll come back if you don’t keep drinking and moving and moving, anything to escape the hole...I bet that’s why Jason. I can drink until I pass out and leave those toxic assholes behind and start over, but the past doesn’t change. And your old man can’t escape that no matter how hard he tries; unfortunately, you’re there for the ride.”

Mel took his hand and held it. “And now you have to deal with two messes. Damn kid, you just can’t catch a break.”

“You’re not broken. A little worse for wear maybe, but you’re not broken Mel.” J. D. told her firmly in the same just louder than a whisper tone. “Don’t try to forget. Embrace the pain and deal with it. It’s the best thing to do. I can help you with that, if you let me.”

“I know, you’re right. God you’re smart.” she laughed briefly. “It’s just...on days like these, it hurts too much to remember. I know I can’t stay like this. Don’t worry, I’ll sober up. I’ll be okay again.” Mel said as she squeezed his hand. “Tomorrow, but not tonight. I’m sorry I’m so selfish.”

“You’re not selfish. You’re the only one who gives a shit it seems about more than yourself.”

Mel snorted. “Yeah, I’m a fucking saint.”

“You’re okay Mel. You care. You’re real and it hurts, but it hurts because you loved him so much. That’s more than I can say about some people.” J. D. let out a breathy chuckle but he nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a clammy hand on his cheek.

“I know you’ll think I’m crazy...but I think I was meant to meet you.”

J. D. didn’t dare breathe too loudly and risk breaking the spell as Mel smiled at him through her puffy eyes. Her own breath hit him and he inhaled the sharp scent of alcohol.

“It’s like...I don’t know, I got a second chance to do good. I loved Jason so much, but I couldn’t deliver. Ain’t that the worst?” Mel slurred as she let her thumb run up and down against his heated skin tenderly. “If something happened to you because I couldn’t help...it’d just be a big slap to the face...you know, he was a lot like you even. Smart and a bit of a smart ass. A deep thinker. And he was a cute kid. He could have really gone places, but…”

He saw the tears well out of her unfocused eyes once more. “He never will and I just can’t seem to get that out of my head. Everyday I wake up and I know it’s been years...but I can’t stop thinking of the man he could have grown up to be. In that awful place, he was all I had to have faith in. And then he was gone.”

“You’re okay Mel.” J. D. repeated. “You’re doing good now. If you weren’t here today, I’d be in that place still too.”

Mel sighed gently. “I can’t stand to think the same thing might happen to you if you stick around your dad. Get me kid? You have to keep going. You have to grow and be better. God, look at who’s giving you advice? A dumb, careless, good for nothing-”

“Stop it.”

Mel fell silent and looked down at her brother’s headphones; she took her hand away and traced the fingers along the headband. J. D. wondered if those words were hers or the echoes of someone else’s voice.

“Mel...you’re the only thing in this world I have faith in. You’re the only one. So don’t talk about yourself that way or I’ll get insulted.” J. D. told her slowly; he waited for her to look up and smiled lightly. “I don’t care if you get sloshed now and then. Just don’t get upchuck on me and stay away from peanuts.”

“It’s not that bad.” Mel smiled a bit. “They just give me hives.”

“Let’s not take chances. Stick around and keep me from falling into juvenile delinquency. But you better keep those damn rock and roll records away from me, or they’ll poison my impressionable mind.”

Mel really did laugh this time. “Am I a bad influence?”

“Nah, only on Tuesdays.”

She giggled and slapped his shoulder. “Oh can it.” she wiped her face and gave one last somber smile at the headphones. “Is it masochistic that I keep them?”

“Does it hurt?”

“No. Yes. Sometimes.” Mel shrugged. “If I tossed them...it’d be like throwing out the last piece of him. That and the quilt.”

“Huh?”

“The pink one. My folks thought Jason was going to be a girl and my grandma made it; by the time they knew the truth, she was dead and it was the last thing she had sewed. Jason wouldn’t let it leave his sight for years...they wanted to throw it out, but I stole it the morning of his funeral.”

Mel’s face was still sad, but calm; her once cracked voice was back to it’s lazy tone. “I don’t care if my mom’s dead. I just wish Jason had lived as long as she did and she had been the one to get run over. But shit happens I guess.”

“You realize you could have told me about this, right? I mean, I’m no stranger to having to deal with death in a family.”

“I know. It’s not your responsibility to deal with that though. I can’t push my issues on you, it wouldn’t be fair.”

“Mel, if you think I’m so mature, you’d at least tell me about this beforehand.” J. D. nudged her arm. “Come on, aren’t we friends here?”

“Well, you know now. It can’t be helped.” Mel sighed wryly. “Thank you Jason. You’re a good kid. I just wish I could do more for you.”

J. D. kept his gaze on her as she put away the headphones gingerly and began cleaning up the table, bottle in her arms and cup in hand.

“You already have. Your brother was lucky to have you love him as much as you did. You must have made him pretty happy when he was alive.”

Mel looked back at him in mild surprise, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from seeping out as J. D. looked at her with clear warmth in his stare.  
“I mean it. You loving him and being there for him was probably the best thing that could have happened.”

Mel’s lips quirked up slowly until she found herself beaming and laughing as carefree as she had the first day they met.

“Well kid, if that’s how it is, then I’ll do the same for you.”

She must have been too drunk or too cheerful to notice the expression on his face.

“I’m going to sleep this off. Goodnight Jason. And thank you.”

The door closed gently; Mel placed the bottles in the trash and rinsed out her glass before retiring to the couch, her heart lighter and her resolve firm. It wasn’t too late.

J. D. was left to sit on the bed with her promise ringing in his thoughts.

 _“I knew it._ ”

It wasn’t too late; if it was uncertain before, it wasn’t now. J. D. fell back on the bed and tried to sleep a little for the coming day. There was a lot to plan and even more to look forward to.

They’d be okay.


	9. And Shadows Still Remain

After Mel spent a good twenty minutes throwing up her guts at five in the morning, she drank three cups of water, brushed her teeth and scrubbed her tongue with half a tube of toothpaste, and passed out on the couch once again, light headed and heavy and trying to forget her brother’s abruptly cut off yell as the tires of that car screeched and knocked him a good ten feet down the road. She tried to block it out by mentally tuning in to ‘November Rain’, which only served to make her bummed out because she couldn’t get her mind on a happier song.

But eventually, sleep did come and it seemed to end all too soon.

“Wake up sleeping beauty.”

Mel forgot how to open her eyes instead. “Mrmmgh?”

“I assume from your less than coherent response you didn’t get alcohol poisoning, but you look like you did.”

The back of Mel’s head must have been glued down as tightly as her eyelids; she could barely open her mouth to gurgle his name.

“Can you sit up?”

Mel shook her head slow as to not make her brain rattle in her skull.

“Okay, just hang tight.” J. D. slowly put his hands under her head and back to scoot her up the pillow on the armrest. “I brought you some water. Can you drink it?”

“Uhuh.” Mel nodded weakly and managed to open her eyes a crack. “Jason…? What time...ugh, I’m sleepy…”

He smiled and stopped himself from kissing her slack mouth. “I can tell from the bedhead. It’s ten in the morning.”

“What?!” Mel fell right back down as soon as she tried to sit up; the room was tilting. “Oh god…” she whined and put a hand to her forehead. “I’m late-and your school-”

“I told pop I was taking a sick day ‘cause my friend gave me a cold and he called the school. I called Sheila and told her you were hungover and sleeping it off. She said she’d come by later and bring you something to eat.”

“Aw, Sheila...” Mel smiled and sighed. “Dammit...she was worried I’d do this too. I’ll never heard the end of it from Gary...fuck. And your dad bought it?”

“He doesn’t care.” J. D. swept her hair from her face and she felt something damp and cold. “This’ll cool you down. Drink.”

Mel didn’t have time to say anything before she felt the rim of the cup pressed between her lips; J. D. tipped it forward just so, letting the water skim her mouth and he wouldn’t pull it away until she drank a few gulps. Her throat restored, she sighed once again and smiled at him apologetically.

“Sorry kid. It’s like no matter where you go you’re dealing with blithering drunks.”

“You’re not a blithering drunk. You’re a sad, sleepy drunk.”

“Is that better?”

“And you have the voice of a drunk angel.”

Mel put a hand to her temple. “Oh yeah...I sing when I drink enough. I was listening to his records and….I guess I just got sentimental. He liked me to sing to him, even if it sucked.”

J. D. shook his head. “You sounded good. I thought it was the radio.”

“Thanks.” Mel shrugged. “You know, I used to make fun of him for liking that oldies stuff. It’s like, ancient. But I was just jealous because our parents thought I was a disaster waiting to happen…”

J. D. wasn’t sure whether or not she was still drunk. Her gaze was still a bit fogged up, but maybe it was because she was in her own world. Mel sighed and leaned back with a wistful smile.

“Yeah, I was the black sheep. I liked garbage music and I cursed and I drank my first beer when I was twelve and I wasn’t that great in school...I got into fights...I didn’t pay attention, just barely scraped C’s. They never liked me much at all and after Jason died, they didn’t even bother tolerating me. I never got close to them, so I didn’t care much...but Jason was different. He was the only real family I had. And I ruined it.”

“...Mel, what happened?”

“Like I said, he was riding his bike, had his headphones on and was going just a little too fast. The driver turned the corner, only had a second to stop, but it was too late. His wife was in the front seat and she died in the hospital. He hung on for a while, but I guess it was too much. My parents sent flowers to his funeral, but they couldn’t look their own daughter in the eye without giving dirty looks.”

Mel ran a hand through a tight knot in the end of her hair. “Ow. Anyway, they just wanted to put it behind them and move on. You know, some people just weren’t meant to be parents.”

“Tell me about it toots.” J. D. winked and tried to hand her the cup.

Mel took it and drank. “But Jason was all I had worth living for...any friends I had got sick of being around me after a while. I didn’t blame them. Who wants to hang around a mope who can’t get over their dead little brother? But I couldn’t help it...I just couldn’t pretend. I really do admire you Jason.”

“Oh stop.”

“I’m serious!” Mel laughed at the way J. D. batted his eyes and waved his hand. “You goof, I really do. You’re doing so well and you saw your own mom...well, you’re not stewing in your own misery. You’re moving forward. I only just started getting my life together after finding Gary and Sheila.”

J. D. sat down by her and leaned on the side of the armrest. “You act like I’m doing all these great things. I’m no better than you.”

“Maybe not now, but you will be. You have something Jason...you can make it. Me?” Mel turned over on her side; their faces weren’t that far apart and J. D. cursed her internally. “Maybe this is off base, but I get the feeling you think I’m this kind, open person who has their shit together and can help...and I want to, I really do, but there’s no guarantee.”

“Of what?”

“That there’s, like, this goodness in me you seem to see. The truth is, there’s a mix of things. I do care, but I get angry and sad and self doubting and just plain dumb and reckless. And empty. There’s this void and nothing can make it better and it affects almost everything I do. Jason, I have to tell you now, because you sound like you’re ready to trust me and count on me...but I don’t think I’m really who you think I am. I have to say this now, because I realize I’m way in over my head. I’m in no position to be-”

“If you say one more shitty thing about yourself, I’m dumping this whole cup on your head to snap you out of it, ‘cause I’m sure this is 50% failed sense of perception, 40% bull, and 10% after effects of the booze still in your system. Mel, no one knows you better than yourself, but no one can see the best parts of you without the rest getting in the way.”

Mel blinked as J. D. took a drink of water for himself; he raised his glass with a dry smirk.

“You want to know what I think? I think your guilt over your kid brother is making you delusional. Let me tell you something sweetheart: I’m not him. I can take care of myself and you don’t need to feel bad if I get hurt. You’re not responsible for me. That’s not what I need from you, to be my caretaker. I just need...well, I need someone to help remind me this world isn’t so hopeless as it seems. And you do that for me.”

“I don’t-” Mel’s eyes widened as J. D. put a finger to her lips and hushed her.

“Nope, not done. You drink, water that is, and I’ll talk. Where was I? Right, your idea that you’re not as good as I know you are. Well, you’re wrong. And you know what? Stop calling yourself dumb. You’re. Not. Dumb. You obviously know practical math skills needed to file taxes and work with money, you can read decently from what I can tell, you’re good at reading a room, you’re empathetic, and your voice is beautiful.”

Mel almost choked on her water; J. D. waited patiently for her to finish coughing before continuing.

“It is. And you are, and I don’t just mean looks. Anyone who can find it in themselves to feel any sort of pity for Heather-mythic-tyrant-bitch-Chandler must have a heart of gold.” J. D. pulled out a cigarette from the inside of his duster and examined it before giving it a favorable nod. “Oh, not to mention that scheme you pulled out of thin air.”

Now Mel was really confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Sheila was on the phone with me for nearly an hour. I sort of lost track of a lot of what she was saying, but I was all ears when she recounted the tale of you framing Heather's lousy date for drug possession. I take it you’re a decent actress from how well you were able to convince the cop Heather was this innocent, scared little girl and had nothing to do with the evils of those big bad college junkies. Color me impressed Mel, I didn’t think you’d be capable of deceit.”

“Sheila told you?! Oh god, that gossip!” Mel slapped her forehead and yelped in pain. “Ow. Dammit it all...are you convinced now I’d be a shitty adult figure to trust?”

J. D. lit a match with a practiced sort of grace; he held the flame to one end of the cigarette and blew it out with a sly smile. “Why’d you do it?”

Mel raised and eyebrow and took the cloth off her head. “Why?”

“Yes Polly Parrot. Why?”

“Those guys were dicks...and...Jason, I don’t feel right talking to you about this any more.” Mel said carefully. “I promised Heather I wouldn’t even mention it to anyone else. Bitchy as she is, I won’t do that. She’s a kid. I just hopes she can get her act together before it bites her back one of these days. It seems like it already might be…”

J. D. stared at her as he puffed smoke. “Do you like her?”

“Well, I guess.” Mel shrugged. “I don’t hate the kid. I don’t like what she says or does, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel for her either. That being said, she wasn’t happy with what I did. I was surprised...not that I thought she’d thank me or anything, but it’s like...I don’t know. You’d think no one had ever done anything nice for her before, but that can’t be right. Isn’t she, like, one of those popular chicks at your school?”

“Sure. The Heathers are nothing short of revered. They’re the three most hated and loved students of Westerberg High. They’re envied, admired, and feared and the most shallow, saddest type of people to see in action. They make anyone the lives of anyone they dislike a living hell. To be acknowledged by them is a blessing.”

“Oh please, you gotta be kidding me. Is your school that boring? Jesus, sounds like these kids need to get a hobby.” Mel rolled her eyes and downed the rest of her water. “Or get laid or something.”

“Tell me about it…”

“So, what’s your point?”

“Heather Chandler is the queen of the hive and she will sting like a bitch.” J. D. took a slow drag. “You may not be a subject of her little kingdom, but I’d keep my distance if I were you.”

Mel laughed. “What could she possibly do?”

But J. D. didn’t crack a smile.

“She’s poison. She’s the kind of person who poisons everyone she comes into contact with. You know how misery loves company? That was about Heather Chandler; happy, well adjusted people don’t work to make others feel shitty or ruin their reputations or pick at their flaws. Miserable people do all that and more, because they can’t face the fact they’re just as flawed. They can’t handle it. So, they make other people just as ugly as they are to compensate because no matter what they do or how many people like them or at least claim to, they know deep down how rotten they truly are. And they know they can’t change it. Not really.”

“Jason...don’t you think that’s a bit harsh? Sure, maybe she will grow up and be an asshole, but she’s, what, seventeen or so? Life for her is only just starting. Who knows? She might grow up someday to be a decent person or at least someone who realizes that tearing down people won’t make themselves feel better.” Mel said gently. “Look at me. I mean, I don’t know how much I’ve changed, but you seem to think I’m pretty cool.”

“Cool? I don’t know if I’d use that term.”

J. D. stubbed out his cigarette in an empty soup can Mel had put there sometime ago for him to use. He couldn’t light another one fast enough; he needed to keep his mouth occupied before he blurted out, ‘I’d use something more along the lines of perfection.’ But he could light a cigarette pretty damn fast.

"Yeah, yeah.” Mel said dismissively. “Jason, promise me you won’t say anything about this? I mean it. If Heather’s done anything to you, then don’t stoop to her level.”

“Mel, do I look like the kind of guy who’d do that?”

“No, but you really seem to hate her.” Mel said. “Did she do something to you?”

“Not as of yet. She’s been preoccupied lately it seems.” J. D. said; that was the truth.

For a few days the demon queen of Westerburg seemed to be in her own little world half the time, three times as dismissive as usual and firmly in place as the leader of her troops, but her acts of malicious and snotty cruelty were practically nonexistent. Rumor has it that she had a special guy on her mind. At least, that was typically why ladies her age acted peculiarly out of nowhere.

“Why’d you do it Mel?”

“Still on this? Cut me some slack kid, huh?” Mel sighed and propped herself up tentatively.

“I swear I won’t breathe a word if you’re straight with me. I’m just curious anyway. I’m not stupid enough to mess with the Heathers.”

“I wonder if that gets confusing...do they ever use, like, codenames?”

“Mel. Focus.”

“Oh yeah. Jason, I really don’t know what to tell you...I felt bad. Her date was being a dick, she went to the bathroom, and-”

J. D. pretended to act nonchalant as Mel came to a halt. “What? Don’t tell me she got stuck in the can?”

“No kid, she...she was crying. At least that’s what it sounded like. And she sounded like she was upset with herself.” Mel drew up her knees and tried to not reel from the movement; she didn’t feel like hurling anymore, so that was a plus. “Maybe that’s why. No one deserves to be treated like trash, at least not by themselves….”

J. D. put out his cigarette prematurely as he went to sit in front of her. “Mel, she’s nothing like you.”

“Isn’t she? I mean, we’re different as can be, but she’s just as snarky and stubborn as I used to be. And...well, we don’t seem to like ourselves much, even when we have a bunch of people saying otherwise.”

“The people who claim to like Heather are liars or they just want something from her. You’re not like her Mel.”

“You know Jason, you two might have some common ground if you stopped to look.”

J. D. chuckled humorlessly. “Yeah, we’re two peas in a pod.”

“Don’t be like that. I mean, you’re both not what you seem...you both seem to have pretty hands off parents who couldn’t give less of a damn. It seems like you two just decided to handle it in different ways. Like I said Jason, you might be a loner, but if you wanted to, I bet you could infiltrate them.” Mel laughed blithely at J. D. eye roll. “Well, your old man’s company is successful, right? Plus you’re good looking; start dressing like a preppy, get into underage drinking, and switch the bike for a BMW, and they’d take you in a heartbeat.”

“Yeah, I think I’d rather get run over.”

Mel’s teasing smile fell and her eyes went wide.  
“Oh shit. Mel, I-”

“It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it like that.” Mel told him before he could say anymore.

J. D. ran a hand through his hair. “Shit, that was fucking stupid.”

“Don’t you start now.” Mel let her legs fall over the edge of the cushion as she reached to squeeze his hand briefly. “It’s okay, really.”

“Mel, just don’t get too close to her. She’s bad news and you don’t need that.” J. D. spoke with quiet urgency. “I don’t want you to have anything to do with any of that bullshit. Just stay how you are. You’re the only thing keeping me from just burning that place to the ground.”

“Hey, one more year and it’s over and done with, right?” Mel’s smile was wiped off her face. “Oh...wait, will you even be here that long?”

“Don’t worry about that. I’m going to be eighteen next month, way before my dad will decide to move again. It’s too early now, but by the time I’m legally able to move out, he won’t have any say in the matter.”

Mel sat upright, forgetting her state. “What? You can’t live on your own! What about finishing school? If you drop out to get a job to pay for a place-”

“Mel, hold on, let me finish.” J. D. took back her hand, both of them, and look her straight in the face. “I only want to stick around in this town because I actually have a reason to. But you’re right, I can’t finish school if I have to get a full time job. That’s why…”

Mel was stunned; J. D. never hesitated.

“Would you be willing to let me move in? Just until I graduate and save up some cash?”

“Are you serious?”

J. D. didn’t want to say that for a moment he felt like his chest was going to cave in until he saw Mel smile in what was approval.

“Of course! But what about college?”

“I was thinking of just staying in state, but to be honest, I’m not sure what I want to do yet. I just know I want to stay here.”

J. D. kept from adding the unspoken, ‘with you, so please, stay away from that toxic bitch, she doesn’t deserve anything from you’.

Heather Chandler was a parasite. Sheila had only just casually mentioned how Mel had apparently fixed her messed up her hair and helped her over her sickly state, but the very idea, they very hint that those hands had touched someone so vile and horrible and plain _wrong_ was disgusting enough to make him want to throw up himself. That wasn’t even mentioning how far Mel had stuck her neck out for her; what if she had gotten caught and the cops had found out where the pot really came from? Would Heather have lifted a finger to aid her? Of course not. J. D. would have shot them all dead, but Heather Chandler would let Mel take the fall, even though it was for her benefit.

She’d never appreciate Mel like he did; she wasn’t even worthy of the back of her hand, let alone any concern. And anyway, he had met Mel first.

But he didn’t want to focus on that now. All J. D. wanted to do was remember this very moment where Mel’s hand fit just perfectly in his and her smile was so bright despite her looking exhausted and dragged through the coals. He already knew she’d say yes, but to hear her sound so eager was more than satisfying. It was just further proof of his standing. Heather was merely some random pity case.

But not him. He actually _meant_ something. He was special.

And if she was this happy about him moving in, he could only imagine her reaction to what would come next.


	10. I Just Couldn't Tell Her So

“Huh?”

Heather Chandler cocked her hip and put on hand on her waist. “Did I stutter?”

“No....wait, did she?” Kurt turned to Ram, who was too busy trying to get his arm far enough around Heather Duke’s shoulder to grope at her chest. She sent Heather McNamara a look of pleading as she pushed aside the persistent hand.

“Is your brain so fucking tiny it can’t comprehend what a stutter is?”

“...no?”

Heather breathed through her nose as she switched the gear on her porsche in the parking lot. “I said, I’m hungry. I am going to pick out something to eat on our way to your bogus party and you will pay for it.”

Kurt seemed to be thinking it over, brow furrowed in the utmost concentration for this harrowing task that may or may not result in he and his friend getting sex.

“Okay. Can we get beer?”

“No. The lady upfront won’t buy that fake ass card.” Heather told him with a similarly fake sweet tone that might be used to condescend to a kindergartener. “So just shut up and when me and Heather and Heather get our snacks, you will take out your wallet and use the little green papers inside to buy them. Can you do that Kurt?”

“Yeah!” Kurt nodded dutifully as he punched Ram in the shoulder to get his attention. “Got it?”

“What?”

Heather cursed them both. “Just get your asses in gear. Heather, Heather, follow me.”

They jumped out of the car hurriedly and scrambled after their fearless leader, more than glad for a chance to breathe and straighten out their clothes.

It was a well known fact that Kurt and Ram were as dumb as bricks, yet as obedient as dogs when the unspoken promise of seeing a naked breast came into play. Not that any of that would be happening; in truth, all they were good for was a lay when instructed properly and for their pocket change. Heather felt a strange sort of satisfaction in particular from using them; if she wanted a fuck or to exert her will or to sponge cash from them, she could do it, and they’d be more than willing because she was, as Kurt so eloquently put it, ‘a babe’.

But today she had a very different purpose in mind for using them, for as stupid and boorish and utterly hopeless as they were in every aspect of their lives, Kurt and Ram were gifted with the grace and strength they didn’t have elsewhere to make passes and impossible touchdowns and even a smidgen of brainpower to understand football strategy. The letterman jackets were more than just to show school spirit and team unity.

They were symbols, badges of honor that they had something to be proud of. Even the rest of the town saw them as hometown heroes for racking up the points; two good ‘ol American boys with good ‘ol American values and a talent for slinging a ball of rubber and dead, leathered cow skin.

_“God knows it’s all they’re good for.”_

Heather contemplated them as they roughhoused like brothers in the parking lot, fighting for who would gain brownie points by opening the door for Heather, Heather, and Heather.

They also were lucky to be passably good looking, decent bone structure, thick hair, and when they didn’t look like complete tards, they had winning smiles with straight, white teeth. It was too bad there was nothing of value behind the skull.

“Heather.”

“Yes Heather?” Heather Duke immediately went to her leader’s side as said Heather took out her compact mirror and fluffed her already perfectly coiffed blonde locks.

“How do I look?”

“Huh?”

“Wow, great Kurt impression.” The little mirror snapped so sharply it made Heather McNamara jump in her shined penny shoes. “I’ll repeat this since I’m feeling nice and hopefully you’re not too stupid to give a good answer. How. Do. I. Look?”

“S-sorry Heather. You look perfect.”

“Yeah, perfect, like you always do.” Heather chimed in, playing with her fingers; her and Heather were still on thin ice for leaving Heather alone at the bar/restaurant.

“I know.” Came the simple response.

Heather and Heather looked at each other as Heather swung back her voluminous hair and smacked her lips to evenly cover them with cherry red lipstick. Not once in all their years of following her, bending over backwards to keep in her good graces, or any other time as far back as they remembered, had she asked them for confirmation of her looks.

“The door is automatic neanderthals.” Heather said coolly as she bypassed Kurt as he got Ram in a headlock; the doors slide to the sides as though she had commanded them to. While the boys scrambled after her, Heather and Heather dropped their curious stares to walk beside her, following back just by a few inches so no one made any mistake of who was the front of the pack.

“Welcome!” a voice called out from the other side of the store as the ding of new customers sounded through the speakers.

“Righteous!” Ram punched fists with Kurt as Aerosmith blared over the small radio resting on the counter. The two pretended to play air guitar as the other Heathers looked on in mixed expressions of embarrassment and exasperation.

"Hey,” Heather Chandler yanked Kurt’s hand down. “I said, we’re getting food. Now be a good boy and shut up and come with me.”

“Okay, okay Heather, don’t get your panties bunched up….”

“What was that?”

Kurt shrugged and buried his hands in his jacket pockets. “Nothin’.”

“That’s right.” Heather marched over to where she was sure the greeting had come from. “Heather, Heather, come on. Keep testing me and see what happens.” she turned on their somewhat sobered up dates. “And you two dolts-just go get us something to eat from the hot bar while we choose snacks.”

Ram and Kurt took off and switched to talking about their next practice and what kind of color panties the girls were probably wearing, while the girls trailed after Heather meekly. Mel was crouched down and getting a good grip on the crates of glass soda bottles as they approached her; she was trying very hard to not get dizzy. Gary had told her not to come in, but she felt bad enough for worrying Sheila; besides, she needed the money and the fresh air.

J. D. was borderline smothering. He kept bringing her water, insisting that she didn’t do more than sit up, kept the blinds closed so the sun’s rays wouldn’t hurt her eyes, and continually made sure she kept the cold cloth over her head until her skin stopped burning. He even rode out to the nearest convenience store to buy aspirin, ginger tea, and to a Dunkin’ Donuts to get her decaf coffee and a baker’s dozen.

And when she finally did go to sleep, Mel could have sworn she heard breathing, soft and barely audible, but there. Or was it her own breathing amplified by her hangover? At any rate, J. D. was worrying too much, so she figured seeing her ready for work would convince him she would be fine.

“Don’t you look cute in your...I’d call it a shirt, but it looks more like something the cat dragged in.”

Mel smiled wryly to herself as she hoisted the three crates into the air. “Hey. How’re you feeling?”

“Fine.”

Mel blinked; she hadn’t expected such a straightforward answer. Heather was staring at her expectantly.

“What?”

“We need service.”

“Oh, well hold on a sec.” Mel told the girls; she carried the crates over to the refrigerated drinks section near the front of the store. She squatted down to place them on the ground carefully before going over to the counter to turn down the music just a bit.

“What can I help you with?”

“Heather wants-”

“Shut up Heather.”

“Sorry Heather.”

Heather rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Does this place have anything that won’t make me gain five pounds?”

“...Sweetie, I hate to break it to you, but this place is junk food city.” Mel smiled crookedly. “If you want healthy, go to the organic section of the grocery store down the block.”

Heather clicked her tongue impatiently. “We have a party to get to.” she looked over her shoulder to give a flirty smile and a wave to Kurt, who was thankfully not looking too much like his head was an empty shell. “Quarterback is hosting.”

“Oh that’s nice.”

“Nice?” Heather laughed. “It’s the biggest party of the fall. Anyone who’s anyone will be there.”

“Eh, I don’t follow sports.” Mel shrugged. “Sounds like a riot though. The best I can recommend from here is to get diet soda.”

“Heather needs to maintain her figure.” Heather Duke shot back in exasperation. “Like, she can’t just drink diet soda.”

Her mouth immediately fell closed as Heather Chandler shot her a cold glare.

“Did I say you could talk? Are you forgetting your little lapse of judgement from the other night? When I talk, you don’t. Is that going to be a problem Heather?”

Heather shrank to two feet tall. “Yeah...sorry Heather.”

Heather McNamara kept to the side, eyes glued to the floor; Mel looked them over with a vague smile.

“Aren’t you three just heartwarming.”

“Whatever.”

Heather was fuming; none of this was going according to her plan. It was like Mel didn’t even care. Didn’t Mel realize what kind of position she was in? She was actually right there, speaking to her, and Heather was allowing her to. She was in the presence of royalty and Heather herself was at the very center, the lower rungs at her beck and call.

But it didn’t seem to phase Mel in the slightest.

_“Well, what’d you expect stupid? She doesn’t even go to high school.”_

Heather kept her eyes averted as Mel went around the counter to man the register; she took out a little mirror of her own and a tube of shiny pink gloss that spread like honey glaze over her lips.

_“Seriously? God, just shut up and die. Think one more stupid thing like that and you might as well crash your porsche into the side of the building.”_

Because at the end of the day, she was everything to the student body of Westerberg High for only one more year.

One more year and it’d be on to college to find a man to support her and marry and who eventually she'd probably want to kill. That’s all that ever seemed to happen in the futures of the Chandler women, or at the least women in high society. Go a year or so of college for the sake of meeting an educated and well off man to add to the empire of bullshit and wealth and then pop out a few screaming brats and spend your days watching daytime TV and organizing tedious get togethers with people you couldn’t give less of a shit about while you swallowed your happy pills in secret while you prepared a roast for your cheating bastard of a husband who you stayed with for convenience.

But for whose convenience, Heather didn’t know.

Mel was single from what she could tell. Mel probably would laugh hysterically at the life awaiting her, wave her off with a smirk as she went off to party and listen to rock, no one scrutinizing her every goddamn move. She'd be unattached and carefree and gorgeously wild, with arms strong enough to carry three huge crates, and probably strong enough to lift Heather herself, secure and warm-

“What are you wearing?" Heather demanded to know abruptly. "Is that cake icing?”

Mel puckered her lips not bothering to look up. “It tastes like it. Want to try some?”

“Excuse me?!”

Mel put a dab on her bottom lip. “Or I could tell you where to get it if you’re scared I have lower class cooties.”

“Pink is so juvenile.”

“Mhm. And that lipstick is off a 1950’s cosmo cover.”

Heather scoffed and smirked. “Red goes with everything. But since you have zero fashion sense or style, you wouldn’t know.”

Mel leaned forward over the counter and yawned.

“What, don’t believe me?”

Before Mel could answer Heather was rifling through her patent leather bag with shaky fingers to produce her tube of lipstick. She wore a look of haughty condescension as she turned the bottom to have the red tip come up. “Wipe off that ten cent crap. I’ll prove it.”

Mel cocked her head to the side but took a tissue from her purse and did so until her mouth was clean; her lips were actually a somewhat dull eraser pink. They were full and the cupids bow was naturally shaped. Heather leaned over just so and steadied Mel’s chin with her own hand, ignoring the way the placid eyes were staring right into hers.

“Don’t make me look like a clown, okay sweetie? I’m on the clock, so I need to look professional.”

Heather smelled a hint of coffee and something bitter on her breath. “Keep your mouth shut and let me show you how a pro does it.”

She traced the very tip over Mel’s still upper lip, taking her time and watching closely as the natural shade went from dull and uninspiring to bright and alluring. She did only use the best; it made sense Mel’s lips would look even more pouty with the right application, and Heather could already see what she’d look like with the right brand of eyeliner and mascara and maybe a dab of blush. Her skin was long cleared of adolescent blemishes, so cover up wasn’t necessary; Heather could even tell exactly what shades would look best, though she doubted Mel would care much for anything heavier than a thin line of kohl and the gloss regularly.

Did she look the same in the morning when she woke up in bed, hair tousled and unkempt and lips maybe the slightest bit chapped?

What kind of house did she live in? Heather was absolutely certain it would look like a hovel compared to her own dwelling. She could picture a weathered couch and outdated curtains and dim bulbs and a somewhat messy room. Inside there would be a bureau lined with a few choice pieces of makeup and jewelry and probably tons of CDs or maybe even a few empty bottles of booze, the rims stained with that candy sweet gloss. 

The bed would be a single. Heather could bring the image to mind easily by now. The mattress would be caved in. Mel didn't seem like she'd be the kind who flipped it over periodically to keep it's shape. Maybe there would be sheets to keep off dust or maybe she'd only bother with a blanket and a couple pillows. But, for some reason, it didn't matter much when Heather thought of Mel resting her head there every night. 

And it made her wonder if she herself ever crossed the older woman's mind.

Heather blinked and swiped one last dash of red over the bottom lip. “Done. Don’t smear it, this shit is better than anything you could probably afford.”

_“Yeah, she’s loving this. Calling her ugly and poor and fashion challenged, that’ll do wonders.”_

But it usually did; at least it usually didn’t matter what she said or how she said it. Heather’s words were solid gold.

But it didn’t. Everyone hated her. Everyone loved her. Everyone wanted to be her friend and everyone wanted her to choke. Everyone wished they could be her and everyone wished she could be anyone else. Heather knew why they flocked to her; the fear, the instinct to survive and get behind the most powerful member of a pack and to be under their protection and to be under their ranks to get what they wanted was just natural.

But that was high school, even if there was still some truth to the theory outside of it.

But what about Mel? Heather watched as she checker herself in the little mirror and her lips stretched into a bright smile that was already emphasized by the red. 

What was her world like? Did she hold any sort of power for herself? Who did she look to for all the things she lacked, if there were any? And how? How did she do it and would she, did she, bring anyone else into this world that was unlike anything Heather might care to know of or dare to step in herself?

She was sure if she even toed the line, she'd be sucked in and powerless and how much would that blow? But then, maybe she'd get a different kind of power. What that was, she didn't know or really have faith in. 

“This is so awesome! You could be a makeup artist or some shit Heather. Hell, you could be the makeup model.” Mel laughed and the red shined in the light; she made a teasing kissy face and Heather's mind went fuzzy for a moment. “Not bad.”

“It’s good stuff right?” Heather put away her lipstick, making sure not to have the tip smudge against anything else. She wondered if her expensive makeup now smelled like coffee.

Mel beamed. “I think I pull it off decently enough for a stock girl.”

_“Don’t look at me that way. Don’t look at me like I’m your friend.”_

Heather flipped the clasp of her bag into place. “You look-”

“Hey, what’s cooking good looking?”

Heather wanted to dig her nails into Kurt’s eyes as he stared down Mel’s shirt and back to her own bewildered eyes. Ram was loaded with snacks and containers of hot dogs and chili fries, but he managed to give Mel a failed suave wink.

“Heather did a nice job. Maybe those lips could be-”

“What?”

Mel sighed and put a hand to her forehead. “Oh crap. Gary, now calm down, they’re just a couple dumb kids-”

“Do I look like I give a shit?” Gary slammed down a box of frozen packs of ice cream bars and gave both Kurt and Ram the hardest glare. “These two are grown. Hey, you fuckheads-” he marched right over to them, leaving the lesser Heathers to stand to the wayside looking more anxious by the second. Heather Chandler was impassive but Mel was just shaking her head.

“Gary-”

“No. You,” Gary got up in Kurt’s face. “Mr. Quarterback, what the hell were you just going to say to my employee?”

“Nothing!” Kurt raised his hands and looked down at Gary innocently.

“No, you don’t get to back down now that you’ve gotta deal with a real man.” Gary persisted; he was a couple inches shorter and not in the best shape, but it was clear Kurt wasn’t ready to deal with an irate adult who clearly didn’t give two shits about who he yelled at. “She is a lady. You speak to her with respect, you greasy haired punk. You’re damn lucky you didn’t finish that sentence-and listen here, if you come in here again and if you or Tweedle Jackass say anything or do anything, to make any woman uncomfortable in my goddamn store, I will shove a bar of soap so far up your asshole your mouth will be clean for weeks. Do we understand each other?”

Kurt stepped back with a sulky frown. “Yeah.”

“Yeah what?”

“Yes sir.” Kurt said dully and Ram echoed seeing Gary give him the evil eye over his friend’s shoulder.

“And you apologize to-you know what? Fuck it, just get the hell out of my store and don’t even look at her again. That’ll work.”

“But our stuff-”

“Give these ladies the money and I’ll let them check out. I would assume you two can at least do that fucking much.”

“Fine man.” Kurt handed Heather Duke his wallet before sending Gary a look.

“Yeah, look at me like that again and see what the fuck happens. You play football? Well I play baseball, and I can hit a home run on that fat head of yours.” Gary called out as the two slipped away through the automatic doors; he sent them one last glare before turning on the Heathers. “Jesus, if you’re going to go around with schmucks, can you at least go with ones that won’t oogle the cashier?”

“Thanks Gary.” Mel sighed. “Geez, you didn’t even give me a chance to take out Mary Mae.”

“Huh?” Heather McNamara seemed to snap out of her daze. “Who?”

“Oh, this.” Mel pulled out a crowbar from under the counter. “I wouldn’t have actually hurt the kid mind you, but as a friend once said, the extreme seems to leave an impression. But Gary already had me covered of course.” she smiled fondly. “A gentleman through and through; even if you did look ready to go apeshit.”

“You see those punks in here again, you call me. Christ, I got enough problems worrying about Shelly getting bothered at the bar.”

“Sheila? Gary, she once broke a bottle against the table and threatened to twist it into some creeps face. I think she’ll be okay.”

Gary’s hard expression turned dreamy. “Yeah…well, carry on. I’m going on break. I did my duty.”

“Right…” Mel shook her head once more and smiled apologetically at the girls as she hid the crow bar. “I’ll ring you up. Sorry, Gary gets a bit...well, you saw it.”

“That was sooo scary…” Heather McNamara said softly, eyes flitting over to the break room’s closed door.

Heather Duke nodded quickly in agreement. “Totally scary.”

“Aw, he’d never go too far.” Mel said blithely. “Hey, how’s your stomach? Keeping things down okay?”

“Oh...yes.”

“Good. Okay, that’ll be twenty even.”

“Here.” Heather Chandler came forward. “Sorry about those two.”

Mel almost missed the button to print the receipt. “Oh. It’s okay, I wasn’t freaked or anything. It was just sad. Like I’d give those chumps the time of day. I guess it’s slim picking’s in your school?”

“Should I keep chaste until I’m your age?”

Mel snorted. “That’d be the pits. I’d wait until you can meet someone worth your attention though. God knows you could do better. No offense, but those guys seem to share half a brain. Find someone you can at least talk to without their eyes going to your boobs for five seconds.”

“Heather, Heather, take these out to the car.”

The girls slipped away, grateful to be outside and away from the tension. Mel ripped out the slip of paper and handed it to Heather; she felt the tips of her nails scratch her palm as she took the receipt.

“What kind of...person are you interested in?”

Mel blinked. “Who, me? Well, someone with more than half a brain. I guess someone nice and funny and all that good shit.” she ran a hand through her hair. “Someone I can count on and share my life with ideally. I guess that’s pretty basic. Like, who wouldn’t want that?”

“Not everyone deserves it.” Heather intoned dully. _“Oh god, shut up and leave, you got what you came here for!”_

“That’s crazy. Everyone deserves love, or at least a friend. A real friend.” Mel added lowly; she rested her chin in her hand. “People you want to be around, not order around.”

“Maybe those are the kind of people I want to be around.”

“Suit yourself.” Mel shrugged again. “Enjoy your...company.”

“I assure you, I will.” Heather said sharply as she made her way to the door.

“Be safe Heather.”

Heather paused and chewed the inside of her cheek. “I can handle myself. I’m not a child.”

“I know.”

"Don't fuck up my makeup." Heather felt her feet carry her out the entrance. “Red's your color Mel.”

The door’s opened and closed swiftly and Heather disappeared into the night and her porsche so quickly she didn’t see Mel’s jaw drop just so.

“Um, Heather-” Heather McNamara tried to venture.

“Buckle up.”

Heather’s short tone left no room for argument as she turned on the engine; she paused before pulling out, hand hovering over the transmission before flipping on the radio, turning the dial until Aerosmith blared out the speakers and the windows and the beat of her frantic heart matched the pace of the drums trying to immerse herself into world she could only dream of that was filled with guitar solos, pink nails, bright smiles, and cherry red kisses.


	11. I Can't Wait for the Nights with You

“Hey pop, did your lady friend give you this?”

Bud Dean stood at the threshold of J. D.’s bedroom door, clad in a tracksuit and sweatband soaked from perspiration, his voice thick with irony.

“Gee son, you know you shouldn’t be looking at those sorts of things.” J. D. tried to take the bra from Bud’s outreached hand, but his father wasn’t quite smiling.

“I was looking for my pliers and looky what I found instead. Normally this would be my lucky day.” Bud smiled in a tense sort of way. “But it seems you’re the one who did.”

J. D. shook his head. “This guy at school stuffed it in my bag as a prank.”

“Oh really? Not getting some girl in trouble are we? I’m not having any brats crawling around here.” Bud dropped the cordial tone almost entirely; it was one of the few and only times J. D. had seen him almost look like a father.

“None I can speak of.”

“Then why is this still in the back of your closet?”

J. D. shrugged with a half smile. “I was thinking of using it to get back at the guy. Just to even the score, you know how it is.”

Bud nodded. “True.” he tossed J. D. the bra and stretched. “Alright pop, I’m going out tonight but I’ll be back before curfew-Oh! Hold on a sec…”

J. D. kept the strained smile on his face as he followed his dad to the living room; he sort of had no choice. He had been home so sporadically, the actual location in the house slipped his mind. Bud was none the wiser as he went to get a big manila envelope and pulled out two photos with the most excited of smiles.

“Look at this: before and after. Put that in a magazine.”

The first picture was a somewhat rundown yet wholly erect structure; the sign hanging from the first floor said it was an animal shelter.

“Yeah, city gave me the okay to knock it down. I mean, you can’t make your payments, that’s what happens.” Bud looked at the second picture with fondness as he held it out for J. D. to see clearly. “It just came down like a deck of cards, barely had to set much up. I’ll let you figure out what I used. Ain’t technology great?”

Mel would be kept as far away from Bud as possible.  
“That is a feat.” J. D. nodded and handed the photos back. “Hey, is it cool if I hang out at my friend’s place tonight?”

“Yeah, sure, sure, just go to school and all that.” Bud absently licked his lips and carefully slipped the pictures back into the envelope. “Damn, too bad the camera busted. It’d have make a great home video. Welp, see you tomorrow pop, I’ve gotta go meet with the boys, got a big project due.”

“Drink responsibly.” J. D. said in a mockingly stern tone as Bud went up the stairs to change.

“Yes sir.”

J. D.’s eyes went over to the envelope; he didn’t bother asking what happened to the animals. Bud wouldn’t know or care. Frankly, he didn’t care much himself. Chances are those animals were already  on their way to being euthanized.

He made the trip back to his room and locked the door with a soft click; it wasn’t even five minutes until he began getting settled that he heard Bud’s heavy boots walking down the stairs and out the door. The car started and the sound of tires against gravel was the last thing J. D. heard before his father was out of sight.

A few days before Mel had left in her half hungover state to go to work despite her ‘condition’. J. D. had driven her there and back, her nails digging in twice as hard as usual for fear of her falling off. J. D. was sure she’d end up hurling what he had managed to get her to eat off the side of the road or on his jacket, but she only got a slight head rush and felt dizzy. She had immediately turned down his offer to run to the store and make her a bloody mary, a little hair of the dog cure to help, but Mel swore up and down that was ridiculous.

J. D. didn’t bother to tell her he was 90% certain of the method; they both already could say why he was so used to helping someone get over a hangover. When he was eight he had made his first bloody mary, extra spicy, and his dad hadn’t ever looked prouder, other than when he assembled his first homemade cherry bomb. Sometimes J. D. wasn’t sure if he liked his dad or not. He couldn’t even quite seem to decide whether they were alike or different or what their relationship was at times and it was too troublesome to think of for long. That’s when the slushies came in.

At any rate, J. D. didn’t want to even think of these things at the time he was aiding Mel; he wanted to keep the focus on how reliable he was in a time of emergency. If Mel wasn’t completely deaf and dumb, she’d see how useful he could be. She did work at a bar and it was clear she had a slight alcohol dependency.

But that day he had dropped her off, there was still plenty of time to kill until J. D. had to go home to keep any suspicions from Big Bud at bay. He noticed one of the messiest parts of her room was the clothes shoved and crumpled at the floor of her closet. Mel had her own washer and dryer in the nook of her living room; all he had to do was go out and get some detergent. There was less than even a tablespoon in the container. Mel once told him she had used shampoo as a substitute; he had thought she was kidding, but then…

So there he was tossing in shirts and pants and the like. He hardly looked twice at the panties or camisoles or sheer stockings.

And then he had just barely smelled something at the bottom of the pile; it was a tad musty, like it had been there a while, but there was a hint of primrose, obviously perfume. J. D. had never even noticed Mel put on any, but then, the scent wasn’t unfamiliar either. He had already stripped the pillow of it’s case and washed it, so he couldn’t tell if there were any similarities, but he was dead sure he had smelled it somewhere else.

It was strange. Mel’s style was overall minimalistic. A spritz of hairspray when she felt up to it, a touch of eyeliner, and a swipe of gloss. Although lately Mel seemed partial to red lipstick, which J. D. found disturbing. Not that it didn’t look hot, but it still looked off. And it didn’t smell as sweet as her lip gloss. But from what J. D. could tell, women typically seemed to change up their styles when they were: A. Bored. B. Wanted to make a guy look twice. One of these results was much more desired than the other.

But then there was the perfume; it was obviously cheap, but it was standardly fragrant to not make his nose tickle. It was pleasant to think of her standing at her mirror, performing her daily routine; his mom used to spray perfume in the crook of her neck, using her fingers to spread the fragrance into her skin and then two squirts exactly behind her ears. J. D. didn’t know why she always put it there specifically, but it was interesting to watch. Bud would shoo him out of the bathroom, saying boys didn’t need to see how women made themselves up, it might give him funny ideas and he’d grow up to be a flamer. He wasn’t quite sure what that was at the time, but whatever it was, Bud didn’t seem keen on them.

J. D. frowned; why did his dad always have to intrude on even his fondest memories? He shook his head to steady his jumbled mind. He had been doing some serious thinking and it was his own fault that he was feeling so conflicted for the time being.

In the first place, he hadn’t meant to take the bra. J. D. was just going to toss it in with the rest of the laundry, really, as much as he was tempted, he was also aware how creepy it was. So J. D. decided to be the responsible and level headed man he knew Mel wanted.

Before starting the wash, he tied up the kitchen trash and took it to the cans outside; coincidentally, an elderly lady was doing the same. To J. D.’s surprise, she gave him a friendly smile and began chatting with him like they were old friends, asking how his morning was and whether Mel was feeling better, as the woman, who had quickly introduced herself as Dorothy, had seen her leave the house with him.

“Oh, Mel’s doing fine now.” J. D. told her casually as he tightly fitted the aluminum lid over the bags of garbage. “Stomach was unsettled, but she got some shut eye and, well, she’s a trooper.”

“Her schedule is so full, I feel like I hardly see the poor thing.” Dorothy clutched her wool cardigan close as a gust of wind blew past. “Do you really think she’ll be okay to work? They say an upset stomach can come and go, but if she moves around too suddenly, she might upset it all over again.”

J. D. waved off her concern. “No, no chance. Mel knows when to take it easy; besides, I’m giving her a lift, straight from the 7-Eleven and home again to be safe.”

Dorothy smiled and patted her hand lightly over his shoulder. “Well, and they say chivalry is dead. You’re a keeper!”

J. D. wasn’t quite sure how to react; had he heard her wrong? “Ah, Mel’s done more than enough to help me out.”

“You see, that’s the problem with these boys and girls nowadays.” Dorothy sighed sadly. “It’s all about me, me, me. A healthy relationship is built on give and take. When my husband was alive, we were partners in crime to the very end, god bless his soul.” her pale eyes drifted to the sky momentarily as though her late husband was indeed listening in; J. D. had the weirdest urge to follow suit, but then Dorothy was speaking again. “It’s just wonderful you’re able to make the time to take care of her when she’s sick. Look at you, busy as a bee and without even needing to be asked!”

“Mel and me-”

“Oh lord, I’m going to miss my stories!” Dorothy jumped and spun around suddenly. “Sorry to go, tell Mel I said hello!”

J. D. stared vaguely as Mel’s neighbor disappeared into her much tidier looking abode.

From an outsider’s perspective, did it look like they were in a relationship? J. D. supposed to a third party it was the most logical conclusion. A young man coming over at odd hours of the day and staying over some nights. Driving a young woman to work and back, her arms tight on his waist. Him coming and going with his own key. And then there was all the behind doors stuff; the compliments, the fond looks, cooking dinner, nursing her, talking to her while she was feeling bad.

And what Mel had shared with him, it wasn’t just the alcohol. She knew, deep down in her heart that he was the one she could talk to. He could understand. He knew what it felt like all too well to have the only person who was your whole world just up and vanish into nothing more than a bundle of memories and what ifs. They shared the same pain.

They could be good together. If a perfect stranger could see it, how could Mel not?

J. D. went back inside, locked the door, put in a new garbage bag, pulled the bra out from the top of the mass of dirty clothes, poured in a cup of liquid detergent, and turned the dial for regular setting. He slowly walked to the bedroom and laid back, his ears picking up on the washing machine tumbling the the load of clothes. Mel wouldn’t need him to pick her up for another few hours and it was highly unlikely anyone else would even stop by.

That night he had wanted to take advantage of her.

There was no getting around it, no sugar coating, no pretending he was any better than Kurt Kelly or Ram Sweeney who repeatedly tried and failed to get girls drunk enough, or at least exasperated enough, to go home with them.

But it wasn’t the same, even if it was. He only wanted her. He didn’t want a fling, he wanted to take her up in his arms and kiss away the tears and cover her trembling lips and show her everything. J. D. still wondered if he could have pulled it off; she was drunk and in the pits of sorrow and maybe, just maybe, she would cling to him for comfort. And after they were satisfied and caught their breath, she’d fall asleep in the crook of his arm, hair tickling his chest. In the morning she would know when he was still next to her. She’d know that his reaction to her darkest thoughts and her tears and her spiraling wouldn’t drive him off. If anything, he had only made him more desperate because she _knew_.

Mel knew how much life could hurt and yet there she was, drunk as a skunk and broken and weak, but she was still there and she somehow found the energy to give him a piece of her heart, even if it was leagues away from what he really wanted.

But J. D. knew what would really happened if he forced all those feelings. If Mel didn’t hate him, she’d hate herself. She might even think since she was the older of them, it was her responsibility to have turned him away. It might have broken her in so many awful, ugly ways and then everything J. D. had worked for until that point would be for nothing. He would never be responsible for her tears.

It was one of the reasons he had been so persistent in caring for Mel in her hungover stupor. Anything to make up for the imagined transgression, anything to show her that, no, he wasn’t one of those people, those sick, twisted fucks, or maybe in other ways he was, in the same sick, twisted, broken ways as his mother and father and as the rest of the sick, twisted world.

But even so, he wanted to be whole and good for her because Mel had somehow managed to hold herself together long enough for that fateful day when she offered him a safe haven and all he could do was hug her and hope words weren’t needed. It had been so innocent and now if Mel was so much as in the same room as him, J. D. could barely stand to keep his hands to his sides or his eyes from roaming.

J. D. couldn’t deny the coiling heat in his stomach that night when Mel reached out her damp hand touched his cheek so tenderly, like he was the vulnerable one. For a second he was sure she would kiss him and if Mel had been the one to initiate the touch, J. D. honestly had no idea what would have happened from there.

But he had thought he had done good, had truly thought he was on the right path to winning her over, and then the little impulsive voice in his head goaded him as he snatched up the article of clothing that smelled like primroses in a moment of weakness. And all because one stranger had said they looked like they belonged together.

It was a violation of her privacy; if Mel found out about what he did in her bed, on top of the very sheets she had held her dead little brother’s headphones and sang his songs and poured her sorrow out in a whiskey glass, she would never look at him the same way.

But for the time being, there was no chance of her finding out.

J. D. was sweating bullets as his hand went south and his free hand grasped the musky cotton to his nose and rubbed the soft pads on his cheeks.

She didn’t have to know. He just needed this. He just needed this tiny outlet for his release. It was only temporary until he could have it all and by then this incident would be nothing but a mildly embarrassing memory that he might even bring up years into the future. Mel would playfully slap his shoulder, call him a weirdo, but by then it would be old history.

Until then, this would have to suffice, so J. D. swallowed his slight shame and guilt and pushed her likely horrified expression to the back of his mind. It was just a little token, something she’d never miss, just a shred of her to get him by until he had it all.

And he did love her, so, was it really that wrong? It’d be one thing if she was just some tail, a lust object, but Mel was so much more than that. She was the border between salvation and damnation and the difference between his sanity and his worst self.

He wanted so much more than this. He wanted everything, no matter how much it tore him up to see her cry and in pain, he needed to see it as desperately as he needed to see her smile. J. D. didn’t want anything held back; he was willing to bear his very soul to her in return. In return for belonging to her, she would belong to him. Tit for tat, even steven, all the way.

Then the high was gone and reality came crashing down when J. D. came up with a bullshit story, but Mel had never asked about the bra. It was possible it had been so long since she did laundry properly, she wouldn’t remember if one of her many unmentionables was missing. He left the house, made a half comment, half witty remark concerning her red lips, and rode off back to his shitty shit house, bra stuffed inside his duster next to his gun.

Now it had been hastily shoved in the back of his closet. J. D. didn’t know what to do. He could risk slipping it back in her underwear drawer, but what if she noticed? He could just burn it or trash it, but the very idea didn’t sit right at all.

“This is a predicament. ” J. D. held the stolen undergarment in his hands and brought it just close enough to let the fading scent waft to him. Soon it would lose her fragrance altogether.

He wanted to tell her. He wanted to drive to her house tonight, bra in hand, tell her every little thing that had been running through his head, get on his hands and knees and beg for forgiveness if he had to. He wanted to let out that sickness to the only person whose opinion mattered. Mel was the only person who could make it go away. His anger and pain and guilt and then there was the other calmer little voice in his head was wondering whether this was going to work.

J. D. didn’t once think of the homeless animals when his dad showed him the photos. The only thought was how great they were. Just the very motion of how a building came crashing down somehow managed to take his breath away in a way Mel couldn’t. It would start off slow and then it progressively got faster and more smoke billowed out the cracks and the shattering concrete and then, it would all come crashing down and that once majestic creation of man was reduced to nothing.

It was so easy to break things. J. D. never wondered if any other building was built or if the vacant spot would be turned into a park or a cemetery or even a different kind of building. He saw beauty in the broken. But he saw that some ugliness in the world couldn't be changed. He saw some things needed to be destroyed so the beautiful things could take center stage.

Could Mel ever understand that?

He didn’t want to lose himself or that beautiful feeling, but what if Mel didn’t like it? What if she knew all the things going on in his head? What if it ruined him in her eyes?

_“She’ll understand. She has to...we share souls. Someday, we’ll share everything.”_

J. D. was holding the cloth so tightly it crumpled into a ball in his grip; why was she so hung up over age anyway? That Dorothy lady must have thought he was Mel’s age. Mel didn’t even look her age, she was the one who could pass for seventeen. Hell, next to him, people would think J. D. was the one dating a high school girl.

It’d be so easy if they were just a little closer in age; they could be a normal couple. She could sit with him at lunch and have the time to talk to him on the phone and run up the bill. He could get her Scorpion tickets to ask her to prom so instead of being stuck with their peers, they could go and have a real dance. They could sneak beer from his dad’s cabinet, and after they sobered up, J. D. would take Mel out on a ride and watch the sunrise and talk about which colleges they were going to apply for.

If only.

J. D. laughed to himself and ran his hands roughly through his hair. “Someone needs to tell her age is just a number…”

All he needed now was a little more time to make it an absolute done deal. Now wasn’t the time to self sabotage and have doubts. Things had gotten pretty heavy, but J. D. was able to reign himself in and get on track.

 _“It’ll work out...I won’t hurt her if I don’t have to. All that icky bad stuff won’t mean anything when she sees it. She knows. At least, she will. If anyone can, it’s Mel.”_ J. D. stuffed the contraband under his pillow and took some time to breathe. _“We’ll be okay. If Mel didn’t want me around, she would have told you to hit the road a long time ago, but she didn’t. She’s trying to fight it and compromise with her feelings, but she can't forever."_

Just another few weeks and it’d be his eighteenth birthday. He knew just how he was going to spend it.


	12. West(erberg) Side Story

**Author's Note: Yeah, it's a side story. This isn't really canon to my own fic's events, but I hope it's enjoyed!**

 

“You’re a bitch.”

The silence first began with the few tables nearby; a boy sitting closest to where the Heathers were gathered together had his mouth hanging open. A half chewed sandwich was falling back onto his tray, but no one was paying him any mind.

“Excuse me?” Heather Chandler had her pen poised in midair, her other hand holding a clipboard with the survey results she had gathered so far.

“I said you’re a bitch. Also, that’s a stupid fucking question. But mostly you’re a bitch. You and your friends. If you can call them that.”

The tables next to the groups of students who fell deathly quiet were also ceasing their talking. By now almost everyone in the cafeteria had their heads turned in the general direction of where Mel was standing in front of the Heathers; it was lunchtime, but she didn’t have a tray. Her knapsack was slung over her shoulders.

“Do you know who you’re talking to?” Heather Duke was the one to take a step forward with a cold glare, but the effect was a bit ruined since she was still a few inches short and needed to raise her chin to look Mel in the eye.

“Yes. Three awful, petty, ugly bitches. And I don’t know what happened to make you all that way, but I don’t care. You act like monsters, it’s on you if everyone hates you. And believe me, everyone here does. They just don’t want to say anything because you’re all toxic. Not that people have to do much to upset any of you.” Mel let her dull eyes roam their sneers. “I mean, it’s like you three are permanently on your period.”

Heather McNamara shook back her hair and looked at Mel from a safe distance behind her friends. “Then you should know we can make your life really difficult.”

“And we will.” Heather Chandler promised.

Mel didn’t look scared. Or smug. Or upset. She didn’t even look mad. All in all, she didn’t quite feel anything as she stared down at these three girls playing grown ups. Time would only tell where they’d end up. As for herself, Mel could only guess.

“Give it a shot.” Mel said with a shrug. “But it’s the truth. You’re just really messed up people. Good luck and try not to get AIDS from Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumbass over there.”

“What’d you say skank?” Ram was up and stalking forward.

Mel stood her ground. “Gonna hit a girl half your size? Yeah big fucking man you are. Why don’t you just go make out with your retarded pal and pretend I give a shit?”

Kurt stood up to join Ram; they were both a good head taller than Mel and they didn’t look the least bit undeterred at the prospect of intimidating her.

“You watch your mouth.”

“Yeah, what he said.”

Mel stared them both in the face and lowered her voice considerably. “I swear to fucking god, if either of you put your hands on me, I’ll break them off. I’ll twist them, kick you in the nuts, slam your noses into the ground, and use my nails to gouge out your fucking stupidly vacant eyes. Try me. Just. Fucking. Try me.” her eyes traveled to the Heathers and Veronica. “And if any of you decide to join in, I’ll tear your wigs off and make you choke on them.”

Heather Duke and McNamara took a few steps back; Kurt and Ram looked behind their shoulders at Heather Chandler for direction. She was smirking faintly.

“You know, I never did like you.” her heels clicked as she went forward; her arms went between Ram and Kurt, parting them out of her way. “You’re so fucking sad, you know that? I almost feel bad for you. Shit, I was willing to be nice and lay off you for the most part, with your dead little-”

The sound of Mel’s fist colliding with Heather Chandler’s face was deafening; it seemed to echo in the cafeteria.

Heather Duke screamed and put her hands to her mouth. “Holy shit!”

“Holy shit!” Ram and Kurt were caught between shock and laughter at Heather’s expression as she lost her balance and fell back onto the dirty floor.

J. D. lowered his book from his line of vision as Mel yanked Heather back up by her hair to bring their faces close together. _“Holy shit…”_

But before anyone else could get out their exclamations of disbelief, a tense hush fell over the spectators. Heather had let out a sharp yelp that was followed by another yank.

“Shut up Heather.”

Mel shook her head by the roots; she could see a cafeteria worker run off to get a teacher from the corner of her eyes. With a resigned sigh, she tossed the fuming and wounded girl away to the floor; Heather and Heather were so paralyzed, they hesitated before rushing to help her up.

Mel lingered and cast Heather the same blank look; throughout the whole scene her expression barely changed.

“My nose! Are you cracked?!” Heather put a hand to her nostrils to stop the trail of blood. “God I think you broke it! Do you know what happens with a broken nose?!”

“It hurts?”

“No you cunt! Both my eyes are going to bruise; I’ll look like a goddamn raccoon!” Heather lowered her hands and took a hanky Heather McNamara gave her to wipe the blood; her voice sounded oddly thick, but then, she could only breath out of her mouth now. “You just wait. You’re done here.”

“Yeah, I am.” Mel agreed; she gave the Heathers and the jocks and the nerds and the goths and the preps and all the rest of them a halfhearted smile before lifting her hand in a limp wave.

Mel was glad to be out of school early, though she was a bit worried about the cops seeing her walking around town and bust her for truancy. But then, the cops there were also fucking idiots. She knew for certain her parents would be shortly receiving a call from the principle or the dean or whoever made calls to say what bad stuff their kid did in school, but she didn’t care. Her time in that town was limited; actually, she thought twice about even bothering to go home.

 _“I already have everything I planned to take in my bag…”_ Mel sat down on a bus bench and began looking through her bag to make sure. Some food, some cash, a few essentials, and a pink blanket and a pair of ruined headphones. And a pack of batteries and a tiny portable radio that only worked half the time; she wanted to travel light, but Mel knew she’d go nuts without her tunes on the way to wherever she would end up.

 _“I should grab a map while I’m at it.”_ Mel made a mental note as she walked to nowhere in particular.

She didn’t want to go home or school; the effort to even attend the first day was a bit pointless, but Mel wanted to at least be able to say she sort of went to her senior year. Yet aside from getting the whim to tell off the Heathers free of any hassle, there wasn’t any reason to stay for even the whole day.

 _“There’s just nothing for me here, not anymore.”_ Mel blinked back the sting in her eyes; she was originally going to wait until graduation so she could save money, but in the end it was far too long to wait. _“I just can’t take it, if I stay in that house, in this town for one more year, I might as well be dead.”_

Mel tried to calm down; she knew she at least needed to clear her head. The day was going into the afternoon and she wanted to leave while there was still some light out.

 _“I’ll grab some snacks and a map and motor. Or jog.”_ Mel almost wanted to smile as she stepped inside the 7-Eleven; the parking lot was filled with trucks and their drivers were either fueling up on gas or donuts and coffee. _“Maybe I can hitch a ride. If any of them try anything, I’ll use my knife and run if my gut isn’t settled.”_

The only thing Mel could rely on now was herself and her own instincts and she really didn’t want to start doubting either one. She took her time though browsing and trying to see which items were the healthiest out of all the junk; her mind was so preoccupied and jittery, she didn’t see where she was shuffling down the aisle.

“Whoops.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Mel smiled apologetically; her smile faltered just so. “Is school out already?”

“Nope. I’m surprised though.”

“Of what?”

“You must recognize my face.” J. D. smiled with a mocking sort of smugness as he sipped his Slurpee.

“Westerberg doesn’t get that many new faces.” Mel explained. “Good luck by the way.”

J. D. looked on as she began to walk away. “What, no introduction?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not going back.” Mel called over her shoulder as she went to the candy aisle.

 _“And I’m not worth a moment of your time apparently.”_ J _._ D. followed her a few paces behind. “Call me curious. I didn’t get your name.”

“Yeah.”

J. D. waited but Mel just kept her focus on deciding between Snowballs and Twinkies. “That charming Sherwood hospitality just sooths the soul. I feel as welcome as a hangover.”

“Christ, okay. What’s your name?”

“Jason Dean, J. D. for-”

“What did you say?”

“Jason Dean?”

Seeing the way Mel took down Heather Chandler and her posse with cold cruelty wasn’t nearly as unsettling as the expression that passed over her face. For just a split second, Mel looked as though he had slapped her right in the face. And then she mustered a half smile.

“No kidding?” Mel went back to her selecting.

“That’s a reaction. Got an ex with the same name?”

“I’ve never dated. Anyhow, it’s nice to meet you; I’m Mel.” she told him; J. D. waited for more, but it seemed she wasn’t much of a talker. Or maybe she just didn’t want to talk to him; he was the new kid, but then from that spectacle earlier, Mel didn’t seem the kind who cared about cliques or social standing.

 _“Why is she so tight assed?”_ J. D. pretended to look over a package of Ding-Dongs.

“Oh!”

J. D. looked up; Mel was scurrying toward a small display of fake orange and yellow and red mums. She took a perfectly proportioned bouquet, and as an afterthought, she grabbed a couple of candy apples; it was a bit early for Halloween, but the corporations seemed to celebrate holidays earlier and earlier every year. Before J. D. could so much as open his mouth, Mel had taken all her items to the check out. He looked back at the slushie machine; if he went to get one now, he would be too late to chat with her.

Ever since he got to Sherwood, J. D. couldn’t wait to move to the next town. It was hick city and the smell of cow dung was covering the town as well as the layer of ignorant intolerance and underlying hostility for anyone different.

Mel’s outburst had been the most entertaining thing to happen since his dad showed him his plans to demolish an abandoned cannery downtown. He wanted to just talk to her, see what she was all about, but it seemed hard for Mel to even be civil. J. D. was thinking of cutting his losses as she bounded out of the 7-Eleven without so much as a goodbye, but then, he hadn’t cut school early just to back out of conversing with the one person with any sort of discerning personality in that one horse town.

_“Or should I say one cow?”_

It was a place where everything was _kept_ in it’s place. Maybe he and Mel could bring a little much needed chaos to that strict order.

And so, J. D. followed after her on his bike at a safe distance as she walked quickly in a direction he wasn’t yet familiar with. When she went off road and down a pathway toward a cemetery surrounded by woods, J. D. parked his vehicle away in a thicket of bushes and made sure to keep his footsteps muffled. The trees were relatively thick at the bases despite their narrow tops and branches, so it was easy to keep himself out of her line of sight.

Actually, Mel hadn’t so much as looked around her as she moved forward; she already knew exactly where she was going. After ten more minutes of walking past graves and statues of angels, Mel went off the gravel path and made a beeline toward a headstone.

J. D. stayed a few feet away, half emerged behind a thick oak; he couldn’t quite make out what was engraved on the slab as Mel ran a hand down it’s smooth surface before kneeling down in the damp grass. She stuck the flowers on the right side while placing one of the candy apples on the left.

“Hey. Now, I know what you’re thinking,”

J. D. narrowed his eyes, trying to get a good look at her profile. She was smiling wryly and twirling the other candy apple in her fingers.

“You think this is stupid. I should finish school, I shouldn’t be fighting. and I’ll admit, I feel kinda bad for the Heathers. God only knows how they got so horrible, but they needed a reality check. I might as well, seeing as how I won’t be coming back.” Mel looked at the headstone with a cheerful grin. “Except to visit you. I know mom and dad don’t come by. They’re still the same. The only time they bother to say boo to me is to tell me how much of a waste I am and how much trouble I cause. They never said it, but I know they wish I had died. I guess I kinda agree.”

J. D. leaned up against the tree and frowned. Was she really talking to someone? It felt like whoever she was addressing was sitting right in front of her, but there wasn’t anyone else there from what he could see. Just the grave.

“But not for their reasons. Not because you could’ve been a success, someone great. I don’t care about that, even if you weren’t......dammit.”

Mel put a hand to her face to scrub at her eye and let out a long shaky breath. “Sorry. Where was I? Right. If I could go back, I would have rather it been me because...I love you Jason. You’re the only person who’s ever loved me, but you got taken away. I know it was an accident, but that’s how it feels. Like you were stolen, like the only good thing in my stupid life is gone. It’s why I can’t stay.”

J. D. sneaked over to a closer tree as Mel took the time to wipe her face. When he chanced peering around the mossy bark, she had unwrapped the candy apple.

“I think of you every day. My friends got sick of it, but I don’t know what else to do. And mom and dad just want to forget.” Mel paused and reached to unzip her stuffed bag; she slowly pulled out a pink quilt folded up to the size of a folder. “They wanted to toss this out with all your stuff...I wish you could go with me. I’m sorry for every time I told you to leave me alone or got mad at you for using the shower when I wanted to or when I wouldn’t let you play with my radio...I hope you knew how much I loved you.”

Mel took a small nibble from the sweet treat to steady her voice; she could hardly taste the caramel sticking to her teeth. She might as well have taken a chomp out of a piece of cardboard. Then to J. D.’s surprise, she suddenly laughed; it was a genuine, honest to god laugh.

“Remember we always used to talk about having our own place? I’d get a job first and then buy a house and you could stay over whenever you wanted? And then when you turned eighteen you could just live with me. You’d never have to worry about ‘earning’ their fucking approval.” Mel’s chuckle turned bitter. “We’d be like, ‘Sayonara motherfuckers!’, maybe move to another state. And-”

Mel stopped; she now had a bashful sort of half grin, but it was tinged with a sort of childish glee, like she had a big secret to tell. J. D. wasn’t sure what to make of any of this; was she going crazy? Or was she just that lonely?

“Promise you won’t laugh, or I’ll leave you those corn chips you hate next time I visit.” Mel said warningly as she pointed her barely eaten apple at the silent grave. “I always thought I could get a house with a nice yard. I could decorate it for Halloween and bake homemade stuff like cookies or brownies and dress up like a witch for the trick-or-treaters.” Mel giggled at the idea and continued as she chewed her candy apple. “I thought it’d be nice. Like, when those kids grew up, they could look back when they were feeling shitty and be like, ‘wasn’t that a good time?’, and then they’d always have at least one happy memory to remember…”

Mel scooted over so she was sitting right in front of the grave; she sighed and patted the stone.

“And when you grew up and had your own kids, you could bring them over. I’d make sure to have extra candy apples.”

Her hand fell back into her lap in a trembling fist. There was no reply of course.

“Why couldn’t you have waited until then? Why did you have to die when we were still miserable? I mean, were you ever really happy?” Mel asked so softly, J. D.  had to strain his ears. “You made me happy...but now that you’re gone, I’m….I’m so sad.” she laughed and shook her head. “I guess I really am dumb. You’re gone...I’m just talking to myself.”

Mel sat back by her bag; she stuffed the folded blanket back inside and pressed her hands to her eyes as she tried to block the tears.

“I’ve tried so hard Jason. I know you’d want me to move on and just stick it out here, but I just can’t. I can’t stand it and I can’t forget you. I don’t want to, even if it’s killing me, because you’re still the only thing that was ever good in my life. It’s so lonely here, you have no idea...but I guess you don’t have any ideas anymore, huh?”

The faint smile on Mel’s face was gone as she stared blankly at the headstone and tried to think of how life could have been for them.

She wanted to hang out with friends and go to the mall and paint her nails and go to concerts and come home to a family that didn’t regret her. She wanted to be seventeen and go to prom and not feel broken. Mel would have loved to live the life her brother would have wanted for her, but she wouldn’t be able to have it, not in Sherwood. There were too many ghosts.

“I’m sorry Jason...I’m getting hysterical.” Mel sniffed and wiped the bubble of snot threatening to drip down her upper lip. “I’m not smart like you, I’m not good at anything. All I do is fight with people and walk around like a zombie and steal beer. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to be alone, but I can’t be with people...not how I am. I don’t know if I can ever love anyone else. I’m just no good like this.” she took a shaky breath and hugged herself tight against the autumn chill. “I don’t want to see you yet when I’m still like this. I don’t even know if I’ll ever see you again. All I have left is memories. I’m just waiting for the day remembering won’t hurt...but I don’t even know if it’ll ever happen.”

The sun was going down already. It was time to leave.

“Jason...I’ll come back someday. And I’ll be happy. This can’t be it.” Mel said uncertainly. “There has to be something else for me. Before I give up, I want to try. It’s the only thing I can do...I love you. I hope if you’re, you know, up there or...I don’t know if you can actually hear me somehow...you know someone’s still thinking of you. That’ll never change. I promise.”

Mel struggled to get up; her legs had long since fallen asleep and she nearly fell back on her ass. She could have sworn she heard laughter, but even she wasn’t crazy enough to believe Jason was somehow getting amusement from her blunder beyond the grave. Mel rubbed her hands up and down her arms, wishing she had thought to wear something warmer than her faded pink sweater.

“Well...so long. I’m not going to leave you here alone. I swear, I’ll come back to see you.” Mel scratched her cheek. “Ugh, sorry to ramble.”

“I’d say that was more of a monologue. Not bad, but I wouldn’t give speeches to gravestones in this weather without a coat.”

Mel felt a weight on her shoulders that wasn’t from her knapsack; it smelled like cigarettes and lighter fluid.

J. D.’s arms were just retracting from her, but before he could get back, Mel’s skull had banged back into his chin so hard he was sure his his bottom teeth were another hit away from getting knocked out.

“You!” Mel’s face contorted in anger, a flush of embarrassment on her already blotchy cheeks as she threw his jacket at him like it was infected. “Did you follow-you know what? I don’t care.” she glared up at him. “Just go.”

“I didn’t realize this place was your private property.” J. D. rubbed his sore chin as he managed to get one arm back into his duster. “Is there a law in Sherwood against walking in the same direction as someone else?”

“No, but there might be a few on stalking.” Mel ground out; she grabbed her bags roughly with one last somber look at the headstone. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, but just buzz off.”

“That hurt you know.” J. D. was smirking a bit as he finished putting on his coat; his chin was indeed already beginning to bruise. “I don’t think the little brother who doesn’t want you fighting would be happy you tried to knock a guy’s teeth out on his gravesite.”

“Don’t you say another word.” Mel looked at him coldly, all traces of embarrassment long gone. And suddenly she smiled thinly. “Actually, keep talking. Hell, camp here for all the shit’s I give. Have a nice life dickwad.”

Mel began walking out toward the path with a steady gait; this incident just made her that much more sure of her decision.

“My mom’s dead.” J. D. called out to her in the dullest voice. “She killed herself years ago by staying in a building my dad blew up for his job.”

Mel froze in her tracks. The air suddenly felt ten times colder and still.

“She waved goodbye to me from the window.” J. D. took a few steps closer. “It sucks, but I think of her still. I’d wager I can understand you in a way no one else in this town could. The pain clears your mind, doesn’t it? All this bullshit with the Heathers and the high school hierarchy, it all just seems like a bunch of crap, right? This should be the best years of our lives, but people like those bitches poison it. And in the real world, it only gets worse for decent folks like us.”

Mel struggled to find a response. J. D. had taken the liberty of plopping right down where she had been sitting. He was currently busy trying to shield his match from the wind so he could light the cigarette dangling from his lips. She wanted to be insulted at the spot he decided to smoke at, but her mind was still reeling.

“What, cat got your tongue?” J. D. said around the now burning cigarette; he inhaled smoothly and let the smoke blow out his nostrils. “You sure were talkative a few minutes ago. I was getting tired standing around, but I felt it might be rude to interrupt your, uh, conversation.” he jerked his head towards the grave.

“I was just...I was just talking to myself really.” Mel managed to get out.

J. D. sent a puff of smoke her way. “You say tomato. But hey, whatever helps; I prefer a good brain freeze myself, but…”

Mel stared at him. “Why did you tell me all that stuff?”

“It’s only fair. I did stumble on your private chat after all. And besides, you’re not just anyone Mel.” J. D. smiled crookedly. “You’re like me.”

“A snoop?”

“An outsider.” J. D. kept his eyes glued to her face without hesitation. “So is everyone when you come down to it. Your classmates are all a bunch of outsiders desperate to find a niche, and when they do find it...well, look at those girls you almost clobbered. I might be new, but I can see it; they’ll do and step on anyone to keep their spots. They’ll trade in their souls like cards and the approval of their equally lost peers are the chips. Oh yeah, I know. When the chips are down, they’ll kill their own.”

J. D. brought the cigarette to his lips. “Sound about right? Please, tell me if I missed anything.”

Mel couldn’t help a hollow smile. “You’re smart for a guy stupid enough to smoke that shit.”

“What these?” J. D. held up the offending cigarette. “So uh, are they any more dangerous than a young lady running away with nowhere to go?”

Mel shook her head in exasperation. “Dude, what do you want? I mean, you obviously followed me for some reason. What for? Just to make a speech about how shitty high school is? Every other movie the last ten years has done that.”

“Yeah, but what have they done about it?”

Mel narrowed her eyes. “I don’t have time for this.”

J. D. watched as she began to walk off, but then she abruptly stopped and turned around with an odd expression.

“And I’m sorry. About your mom. I only wish mine had disappeared earlier in my life, but it sounds like yours must have been nice if you miss her still.” Mel looked down at the spot her brother now rested before they went back to J. D.’s gaze. “Also, don’t follow me. And toss that shit somewhere else when you’re done.”

“What’s the rush? I was hoping you might want to stick around for a bit actually.”

“Nope.”

“I liked how you dealt with those assholes.”

Mel frowned. “I didn’t do it for the fun of it.”

“You sure? I don’t think Heather Chandler’s nose will ever be the same.” J. D. stood up, making sure to walk forward a few paces before tossing his cigarette in the grass and dragging his boot to put it out. “It was...sensational. I think you did what most students at Westerberg only wish they could have done.”

“It’s not something to be proud of.” Mel replied. “It was impulsive. If anything, it just proves I’m no better. A good person would have just let it go.”

“I think you’re a good person.”

“You don’t know me. You heard me have what was supposed to be a private...moment.” she huffed and looked away. “God, how could you? That wasn’t for anyone else to hear and you knew it. Why didn’t you just go?!”

“Because I didn’t want to.”

“Why?! God what the fuck is your-?” Mel gasped as his arms looped around her tightly. “Hey! Get off me, I’ll scream, I’ll-”

“It hurts so much you can’t breathe. Every day you wake up and you wonder, ‘what am I even still doing waking up every day?’ You go through the motions, you avoid the parents, you avoid the sheep, and you’re alone because you’re who you are and there’s just no way anyone else would get that. You try to Mel, but you can’t stop how you feel. No matter how hard you try to numb it down, it’ll come back.”

Mel grit her teeth and shoved down the lump in her chest as forcefully as she tried to shove him away, but either her nerves were failing her or J. D. was that much stronger. He wasn’t budging an inch.

“Cool it will you? Don’t push me out. What’s the harm in meeting a kindred soul?”

J. D. sneaked one of his hands into her hair; they were so close he could smell her lip gloss and feel the outline of her chest pressing against his. Hot tears were springing up from the corners of her eyes, but there was no fear, only a faded ember of the boiling anger remained.

“It’s scary when people see you, especially when it’s on accident-”

“I don’t call eavesdropping an accident.”

J. D. just held her closer. “It doesn’t have to be scary, Mel. I wouldn’t abandon you for being honest. I want to see you. It’s not too late...you don’t have to be the lone ranger in this hell hole.”

Mel arms were limp at her sides. She was looking at him as though she didn’t quite know what to make of him. He could feel his heart thawing just at the timidly curious bunny rabbit stare. J. D. pulled back just so to tuck a wayward piece of hair from her wet cheek.

“Why not be alone together?” J. D. smiled wide as she cocked her head to the side inquiringly. “Tell you what, let’s get out of here for a bit; you can piss off your parents by riding off with the punk on his motorbike.”

“Like I give a rat’s ass what they think.”

“Don’t tell me you aren’t tempted.” J. D. smirked playfully. “Picture it: you, me, the wind in our hair. Maybe go back to the 7-Eleven, buy a slushie with two straws.”

“You put Romeo to shame.”

“You said you’ve never dated; how would you know?”

“Guess I wouldn’t.” Mel conceded lightly. “And then? What happens next?”

J. D. shrugged innocently. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“On you.”

J. D. brought his fingers to her cheek; her skin was as cold as ice. The gloss smelled like cake frosting. Her parted, untouched lips looked soft and he could hardly hear what she was saying from the pounding in his chest. He’d kill her if she was lying about being inexperienced. Or maybe just punish her a little with a nip harsh enough to make her regret even attempting to push him away. It was impossibly cruel to rip apart what was meant to be together.

“Okay.”

The stab to the side of J. D.’s gut was really nothing more than a prick, but Mel dragged the tip of her jackknife downward and managed to break skin. He jumped back with a curse and Mel held up the blade with a lazy smirk.

“You know, you’re a bit of a sap deep down, aren’t you Jason?”

J. D. let out a short laugh and pressed down the cloth of his shirt to soak up the blood. “I’d say my observation skills were lacking. Hey, you read Baudelaire?”

“No.”

He laughed at the flippant reply. “He once said, ‘There is no sweeter pleasure than to surprise a man by giving him more than he hopes for’.”

“Wow, that’s good enough to get printed on a bumper sticker.”

“You really are tough nut to crack aren’t ya? Come on Mel, work with me here!” J. D. was inspecting his cut with a somewhat dazed half grin; it was hardly deep and the blood was already drying and closing the wound up. “Your aim could definitely use work.”

“I wasn’t aiming to kill. Geez, if anyone here is a nut it’s you.” Mel retorted. “I don’t know what makes you think you could put your grubby little hands on me, but it can’t be sanity.”

“You’re the only thing that’s making me see things clearly in this place Mel. Ya know, I wasn’t looking forward to move number eleven, but here we are.” J. D. straightened out his duster lapels. “You’re more than I hoped for. It’s been a pleasure just to watch you in action; shame you don’t agree.”

“Did your mom drop you on your head when you were born? Or are you just this naturally unhinged?” Mel didn’t flinch as J. D.’s smile turned cold. “Yeah, hurts when someone intrudes on your personal shit, huh?”

“They say the first cut is the deepest.” J. D.’s dark eyes gleamed. “I’m going to say you’re still not sold on my proposal?”

Mel’s hard look softened into a blank stare; she folded up her knife and stuffed it back in her jean pocket before taking steady steps to where J. D. stood.

“I already told you. I can’t stay here Jason. Not even for you.”

J. D. felt goosebumps on his arms as she stood before him; Mel sighed softly and looked up at him with fond amusement.

“I’m  not going anywhere specific. Just away. And there’s no guarantee I’ll end up somewhere better...just a hunch.”

J. D. chuckled and shook his head. “Is there any place like that?”

“Maybe.”

“Are you really going to do it? You’re really leaving, just like that?” J. D. felt betrayed, but he knew he had no right to feel that way; he had just met her that very morning. It only felt like he knew her all his life.

“Do you want to come with me?”

His eyes went wide. “What?”

“You want to throw it all away and come with me? Like you said, we can take your bike. We can even go to your place so you can grab anything you might need. Two is safer than one. I’ll even share my candy.” Mel grinned and reached out to rub his head.

“...why are you being so nice?”

“Well, I should go before I’m late.” Mel pulled away and smoothed down the skirt of her work uniform; she fastened her purse over her shoulder and sent him a lazy wave before walking toward the building marked to be torn down.

“Wait, Mel!”

She blinked and faced him with a kind smile before she kept moving forward.

“You’re still just a kid, Jason.”

“Wait-”

She didn’t look back.

“MEL!”

“What?!”

J. D.’s eyes flew open and he almost sent Mel falling backward when he leapt out from under the covers and onto the carpeted floor of her bedroom.

“Mel…?”

“Good morning.” Mel said as she picked up her dropped purse. “Boy, you scared me kid. I was just going to tell you I had to get going-”

“No!” J. D. grabbed her by the shoulders with urgent eyes. “No, you can’t go inside, it’s gonna come down, it’ll crush you to death, it’ll-”

Mel stiffened as J. D. flung his arms around her, his whole body going limp as one of her hands made to stroke his hair. The sudden weight causing them both to slowly sink to the floor, but Mel didn’t resist; she felt the collar of her shirt dampen. His face was pressed into the cloth as he garbled out a string of muffled pleas and nonsense and something about candy apples.

“You can’t go...you have to stay, you have to. Fuck Mel, if you left and-”

J. D. choked on a dry sob and a violent shiver wracked his whole body; Mel’s fingers were stroking tenderly. She was cradling him like a child and he had never felt so mortified with himself.

But he didn’t want her to stop. Even if it meant she was seeing him at his lowest, at his most pathetic, even if he knew he wouldn’t be able to look her in the face for a bit, J. D. didn’t want her to pull back. If she did, bad things would happen, he just knew it as surely as he knew his mother had fully intended to let herself be crushed and mangled by the rubble and leave his life forever.

This wasn’t some Oedipus, mommy complex fantasy. The embrace didn’t make J. D. sweat or his heart threaten to burst from his chest. It made him ache. He wanted so much more from her, but right now, this really was enough.

Even if it arose from a panicked moment of weakness and a fever dream, he would let his guard down. He would allow himself to feel secure and protected, though he couldn't help think about how no one had held him like this since his mother. No one had looked at him as a person to be taken care of. J. D. didn’t want Mel to see him as just a kid, but he couldn’t deny how good it felt to be treated in a way that suggested he was worth fighting for.

“Jason, it was a dream, that’s all.” Mel’s voice was just as gentle as her hands. “You were asleep; actually, I was going to wake you up so you’d know where I went and didn’t get worried. Sheila called me in for an emergency, I’m only gonna be gone for two hours tops until the swing shift guy gets there, but I’m not going anywhere else. It’s okay you know...we all have bad dreams sometimes, and if they’re really realistic...well, let’s say I’m no stranger to getting shaken up when they’re done.” she smiled sadly. “But it’s okay. It happens. I’m not going anywhere. You understand that, right?”

“Yeah. I know.” J. D. chuckled wetly. “Sorry for the waterworks. I messed up your-”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass.” Mel said dismissively; she gave his head one last pat before pulling them both up to their feet. She took out a handkerchief and began dabbing at the wet spot. “I’ll say I spilled a drink. Not that they wouldn’t think so in the first place, but…” she smiled suddenly. “Hey, wanna come with me?”

J. D. stared at her. “What?”

“You can’t sit at the bar, but you can get something to eat. Are you hungry? It’s past lunch time.”

“I can eat.”

“Alright!” Mel stuffed the napkin back into her shirt pocket. “Grab your jacket, it’s chilly out. I’ll set you up with whatever you’re hungry for. Hell, maybe I can convince Sheila to let you sit at the counter.” her grin grew bashful and an excited flush rose to her cheeks. “I can show off my cool bartender skills for a captive audience.”

“Sounds like fun.” J. D. chuckled and followed her to the front door; he kept his eyes on the floor as he pretended to tighten the laces on his shoes. “Thanks Mel.”

She pretended she didn’t see him pulling himself together. “On the way back, let’s grab some candy. I know it’s early for Halloween, but I’m feeling festive.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to start with the decorations early too?”

“No.” Mel sent him a coy glance as his face expressed doubt. “Oh come on, it’s my favorite holiday. It’s all about costumes and getting scared and eating sweets. None of that family drama stuff, just fun.” she blew a piece of her hair from her eyes and smiled. “It’s gonna be great this year. You can help pass out candy with me if you want.”

“Can I hide in the bushes and pop out with a fake knife instead?”

“Will it be bloody?”

“Yes.”

“Damn Jason, you want to give them heart attacks? God knows you gave me one this morning, thought I was going to need to call the exorcist.”

“Hey Mel?”

“What’s up?” she sat down on the back of the bike; her skirt rode up and J. D. pretended not to notice.

“You think we’d get along if we went to school together?”

“No. But I didn’t get on with anyone.” Mel told him as her arms wrapped around his waist on habit. “Besides, I wouldn’t be there. I dropped out, remember?”

“What if I dropped out and went with you? Not like there’s much for me to stick around for.” J. D. plunked the helmet over her hair; she frowned at how it would flatten but thought seriously about his question.

“I’d probably tell you to get lost so you didn’t do something crazy and waste your future.” Mel chuckled as the bike rumbled to life.

“You are my future.”

“What?” Mel called over the revving engine.

“Hang on tight!”

J. D. smiled as the familiar pain of her nails came; he purposely raced to the bar even though it was just a little ways from the house. Mel’s face pressed between his shoulder blades and he never felt more alive in his short, whirlwind yet monotone of a life. He felt reborn in her arms.

Going back in time was impossible, but who said you couldn’t start over?


	13. Young Girl

“Sheila...you know I love anything you’d get me, but I have to ask…” Mel held up the tissue stuffed box to reveal the gift inside. “Why did you and Gary get me a sparkly tiara?”

“Don’t you like it?” Sheila said through a mouthful of chocolate cake, rinsing it down with a sip of bourbon. As an afterthought she refilled Mel’s empty glass on the bar; normally on a Friday night she would be bustling all over the counter, but the rest of the staff was happy to pick up more of the load so Sheila could serve up the birthday cake and give Mel her present.

“It’s pretty.”

Mel really didn’t want to be ungrateful, but she had absolutely no idea what would possess her surrogate caregivers/employers to give her a more delicate version of a crown. Gary and Sheila were very practical in their gifts. For her twenty first birthday, she got her own set of drink glasses and a bottle of her favorite whiskey. Last year they had saved money to pay for the heater to get fixed before winter came in, as well as couple of new sweaters and snow boots. On her eighteenth birthday, Mel was given the keys to the old house; granted it was partially due to Sheila being unable to contact a serious exorcist to rid the place of what she sweared up and down was her mother’s ghost, but a house was a house.

Needless to say, Mel had no idea why for her twenty fourth birthday she had been given a tiara; whatever the reason, she was sure it wasn’t Gary’s idea.

Sheila leaned on the counter with an odd sort of half smile. “You remember how you told us your folks stopped doing birthdays when you were a kid?”

“Yeah.” Mel nodded; after her brother died, their parents didn’t seem to see much point in celebrating the birth of the child they would have rather been ran over.

“Well, I was thinking how you came to us when you were sixteen. I bet you never had a sweet sixteen then?” Sheila stabbed her cake with a rueful smile. “When I was that age, the thing to do was for the parents to give the birthday girl a tiara, because she was princess for a day…so...well…” her already rouged cheeks turned a brighter shade of red as she reached over to give Mel a warm hug. “It may sound ‘lame’, but I hope you know me and Gary consider you our princess.”

Mel’s eyes stung as she held Sheila back; they pulled away with huge identical grins and not for the first time did Mel wish she could have grown up with them as her family. Still, better late than never.

“Thank you.”

Sheila dabbed at the corners of her eyes before raising her glass for a toast; Mel clinked her own cup with hers and took a large drink.

“I’m just sorry Gary couldn’t get out of work.” Sheila sighed.

“Tell him to stop hiring bums.”

“The guy seemed okay at first; he’d been out on good behavior after all. Besides, you know him.” Sheila smiled. “I’ll never understand that man; he’s the first to suggest an ass kicking to set someone straight _and_ the first to give them a second chance afterward. Maybe I can be a pushover, but at least I have consistency.”

“I know my brother would have loved to meet him. He hated it when I fought, so he’d be glad to know there was someone willing to do it for me instead.” Mel said as sipped her whiskey.

“I still feel nervous about having that gun in the house. Lord, I hope he never has an accident.” Sheila shook her head.

“I’m sure that won’t happen. If you’re careful, there’s no reason for an accident.” Mel shrugged; she never did tell Sheila about her own handgun still unloaded and nestled up in her closet.

“Maybe. I guess it is nice to have if, god forbid, someone does try to break in.” Sheila shivered. “You just never know nowadays. By the way, Gary picked out your second gift all on his own.”

“Aw, what is it?”

Sheila grinned and took another package from the pocket of her skirt. “He thought it was your style.”

Mel took the hair clip in her hand; it’s decoration was a pastel pink rose in full bloom.

“The tiara was more for sentimental purposes. This is to keep all that hair out of your face.”

“I love it!” Mel began to put it through her hair immediately, pinning it in securely before turning her head for Sheila to get a good look.

“It matches your outfit anyway.” Sheila winked; Mel was wearing her uniform, as she insisted on helping with the dinner crowd before taking off. It was fun sharing the cake with the Friday night regulars; besides, it was tradition to have the cake and presents at Sheila’s.

“I love it.” Mel repeatedly softly as she squeezed the older woman’s hand. “And I love you two.”

Sheila began to refill her own glass, the cake long gone from her plate. “Aren’t we forgetting someone?”

“Hm?” Mel was busy checking how the rose looked in her hair as she surveyed her reflection in her compact mirror.

“What about that boy?”

“Boy?” Mel blinked and gave Sheila her full attention. “What boy?”

“Come on missy, you’ve been holding back from me, I can tell.” Sheila lowered her voice. “Don’t play dumb, I want details. God knows it’s been a long time coming.”

“Sheila, what in the world are you talking about?” Mel put away her mirror alone with the wrapped tiara in her purse. “I’m not seeing anyone right now.”

“Are you telling me that absolutely nothing is going on between you and that J. D. kid?”

Mel looked at her impassively. “Sheila, you said it yourself. He’s a kid.”

“Oh you know what I mean. To me anyone under thirty is still a kid. And do not give me that look, he is only a few years younger and from what I could tell, a good few years more mature than half the men in this town.” Sheila looked around at her patrons with a wry smile. “Make that ten years.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Sweetie, you look younger than him. Lord, he should be the one worrying, but it doesn’t seem to bother him at all. But if that’s really how you feel, and if I were you, I’d break it to him gently.”

Mel looked at Sheila in confusion. “Huh?”

Now Sheila was feeling exasperated. “Mel, I know you didn’t finish school, but this is making me depressed.”

“Jason is not thinking that way at all.” Mel said evenly. “He’s glad to have someone looking out for him and a place to go; you’re just looking too much into it.”

“Are you sure you’re only twenty four? 'Cause if that’s the case, your eyes are worse than mine.” Sheila replied. “Anyone with one eye can see that boy is crazy about you.”

“I’m so sure.” Mel drawled. “Sheila, you talked to him, for like what, ten minutes?”

Sheila had indeed come over not long before to check in on Mel the day after her hangover, intending to drive her to the 7-Eleven for work. J. D. was there and they had done the usual introductions, but the two women were out the door in no time and they had only exchanged a few words.

“Sweetie, remember when you tried that fancy whiskey Gary bought you last year during the Christmas party?”

“Sure.” Mel could still recall the smoothness and how one sip had been enough to already get a good buzz going.

“And you kept looking like you were in heaven every time you took a drink; honestly, we were a bit worried…” Sheila frowned briefly. “But you can hold your liquor as well as the next person.”

“Is there a point to this trip down memory lane?”

“Don’t be smart.”

“I never am.”

Sheila frowned deeply. “Mel, don’t talk like that.”

“Sorry.” Mel smiled and scratched her cheek. “So, what is your point?”

“That boy got the same look in his eyes every time you so much as opened your mouth.”

“Oh Sheila, come on.”

“He is over the moon. Mel, he may be young but he’s not a child; at that age, it’s easy to get a crush on an older woman showing you special attention. Hell, just being decently friendly may be enough to make any guy think he’s got a shot.”

“Jason isn’t like that. I’ve never even heard him talk about girls at all.”

“Well, what do you two talk about?”

“Well...books. He reads a lot. He tells me about school sometimes and about bombs. He really knows his explosives. And we joke around a lot.” Mel shrugged. “We listen to music, eat, watch TV, casual stuff.”

“So, you skipped the awkward first date phase and skipped to being an old married couple?”

Mel rolled her eyes. “Oh my god.”

“I’m just saying, if I were you, I’d be really careful about not giving him the wrong idea.” Sheila told her soberly. “Especially since you’re planning on letting him move in when he’s eighteen, right?”

“Yes, but I’m sure Jason won’t want to stay forever. He’ll probably go off to college and get a job. He can save up money while he stays with me, and then he’ll move out, get a job he likes, have a degree, meet a nice girl his own age. He can start over his life the way he wants to and maybe he’ll visit now and then.” Mel swirled the half melted ice cubes in her glass. “At least I hope so. Jason deserves better than he gets.”

Sheila stared at Mel like a hawk; her gaze was focused and her mouth set in a firm line.

“What?”

“You think you’re not good enough for him.”

Mel felt a tap on her shoulder; she turned around in her bar stool. “Heather?”

Sheila’s eyed the teenager curiously. “Sweetie, how old are you?”

Heather Chandler sent her an impatient glare. “Sixteen. Is Mel busy?”

“She’s not, but you shouldn’t be over by the bar area.”

Before Heather could make a remark, Mel was up and taking her by the arm.

“Come on, let’s grab a table.”

“I didn’t come here to eat. I have to talk to you outside.” Heather was surveying the room with distaste; the room was practically swaying as partons danced around, bumped into each other, and talked loud enough to make someone deaf. “Now.”

“Okay, okay, hold your horses.” Mel said as she grabbed her purse. “I’ll see you later Sheila, tell Gary I said thanks if he picks you up.”

“Sure sweetie, happy birthday.” Sheila was looking at Heather warily but decided not to ask questions in front of her.

Mel took her behind the building where they put out trash; for whatever reason, Heather didn’t seem to want anyone to overhear them. In fact, aside from roughly yanking her arm from Mel’s hand, she had remained utterly silent, her eyes cast down and her hair falling into her face almost messily, at least for her.

“So, what’s up?” Mel asked her once they were leaning on the wall; she could smell the garbage aroma wafting from the dumpster next to them. She waited for Heather to comment. Or to say anything. “Heather?”

She raised her eyes finally, her mouth set in a confident sneer instead of a thin frown. “This is the last place I want to be on a Friday night. But you’re the only person I know who will keep their mouth shut for the favor I need. If you don’t, I tell the cops all about how you planted that pot on those assholes.”

Mel stared at her blankly. “So, you came here to blackmail me into doing something for you?”

“You make it sound so ugly.” Heather smiled with all the poise of someone who held the upper hand. “But getting thrown in prison for your trouble is an ugly spot to be in. So, do we have a deal?”

Mel smiled and shook her head. “You’re a real piece of work.”

Heather’s smile faltered as Mel began to walk toward the exit door. “Where do you think you’re going? You think you have any choice in this? I can ruin your life with one word; who do you think they’ll believe, me or you?”

“Tell the cops.”

Mel was suddenly glaring at Heather, who stood her ground, albeit now she was feeling a bit unsteady.

“God, I knew you were warped, but this? Is this how you ask favors from people who only ever helped your sorry ass out?”

“I’m not asking. I’m telling you-!”

“Yeah, well then fuck off. No one tells me what to do, especially not some brat.” Mel cast her one last scathing look before opening the door, her profile casting a shadow over Heather from the light pouring outside. She guessed J. D. had been right after all.

Heather’s hands were shaking fists at her sides. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

“You make me sick.” Mel grit her teeth. “Buzz off.”

“You have to help me!”

Mel sighed. “I said, don’t tell me what to do-”

“Mel, will you just fucking listen?! I need your help!”

Heather’s nails were digging into her palms hard enough to break the skin but not draw blood; before she could stop herself, she fell to the ground, knees knocking into the freezing pavement, but she could hardly feel it. She wanted nothing more than to just melt into the ground and disappear.

Heather wanted to slap Mel right across the face. She wanted to throttle her and scream and make her regret she ever spoke to her in such a vulgar, cold way. Heather didn’t care why or who, no one would ever get away with treating her like that.

Mel wouldn’t get away with forcing her to this state.

“You’re the only one I can go to, okay?! God, why are you making me do this, are you a fucking sadist?”

“Heather-”

“You know what? Go to hell!” Heather found a piece of broken brick and tossed it in Mel’s direction, but all it did was bounce off the wall by her arm. She tried one more time with a smaller chunk as she saw Mel walk back to her, but all she could manage was to make it hit the top of her shoe. “Go away!”

“Heather, why didn’t you just ask?”

“I did ask, you stupid cow!”

“No.” Mel said forcefully. “I mean, actually ask me. Not threaten me. What is this even all about?”

Heather looked up at her through bleary eyes; her stubborn frown wavered as she tried to keep her bottom lip from trembling and the hot tears from falling.

“Don’t look at me.”

Mel knelt down in front of her as Heather kept her head bowed and she gripped her own arms; she just gazed at the top of her head. She was at a complete loss.

“I don’t want you to see me like this, so just go, go and leave me alone. I don’t care.”

Heather wanted to gouge out her own eyes as she felt the tears slip out, no matter how tight she clenched them shut.

_“I hate this...I hate her. Why can’t she just do what everyone else does? Why can’t she just not make everything so difficult?!”_

She never should have come, but she didn’t have much choice.

And maybe part of her wanted to.

“What’s wrong?”

“You don’t care.” Heather shot back.

“Excuse me for not taking kindly to getting blackmailed.” Mel retorted; she took a deep breath to calm down. “I want to help you, but you need to let me. No threats, no bullshit. Just ask. Is it that hard?”

“Yes.”

“Okay...well, can you at least tell me what you need me to do?”

Heather mumbled.

“Huh?”

“I...I said…”

Mel frowned. “Sweetie, I don’t speak deaf language. You have to speak up-”

“What the hell does it matter? If you’re not going to help me, it’s over!” Heather laughed hysterically and threw up her hands. “My reputation is dead as disco; I’ll never be able to show my face, everyone is going to think I’m a slut, and of course Kurt won’t get any shit for it, I’m the one who’s going to get fucking stretch marks-oh my god.” Heather gasped and put her hands to her mouth. “Oh my god, my body will be _ruined!_ ”

“Okay, you are really bugging out.”

“Are you retarded?! Dammit.” Heather put her hands in her blotchy face. “Goddammit, I’m doing it again. Why am I doing this, why am I even here? You’re not going to help me, I can’t do this, I’m ruined, I’m-”

Heather felt Mel’s arms grip her shoulders; her eyes went to her calm face. The hands stopped the world from awaying and held her steady.

“Heather, I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about. You need to tell me everything.” Mel told her gently, but firmly. “Okay?”

“I’m royally fucked. I’m more screwed than a-a, a thing! I don’t fucking know!”

Mel blinked. “Okay, maybe you’re still a bit out of it.” she leaned in and sniffed lightly. “Are you drunk?”

“And you know what? They’re all going to turn on me. That’s what happens when you have power; not just anyone can handle it you know, you have to get them before they can get you, the lying, two faced phony ass wipes...it’s a fucking shark pit, that’s what it is, and a fuck up like this is like jumping in covered in chum.”

Mel frowned. “It...it doesn’t sound like those are good friends to me.”

“Well, I’m not their friend. So why not? You saw me in action, you think I’m a mythic bitch too, right?” Heather glared accusingly. “I deserve what I’m going to get?”

“I never said that.”

“But you’re thinking it.”

Mel sighed heavily. “Look, here’s the thing. Friendship is give and take. All you little bastards seem to do is use each other. So no, I’m guessing whatever trouble you’re in is bad enough that if anyone at school still hung out with you, they’d give them shit. Like you would.”

Heather hung her head. “So what?”

“I know what kind of person you are Heather. I don’t know all the details, but I have a good idea. I did go to high school. Times change, but some stuff doesn’t, at least from what I’ve heard...in fact, the way you describe it sounds exactly like how this other kid did. And I’m not going to let you treat me like shit because of your high school drama. But if you really need my help, I’ll do what I can.”

“Why?”

“What?”  
“You know if you help me, I’ll just go back to school and it’ll be like nothing ever happened. I won’t get what I deserve.” Heather spat bitterly.

“It’s not about that. I wouldn’t feel right letting you get in trouble.” Mel told her. “But you need to trust me. You came here because you thought I’d keep quiet right? So what is it? I’m getting antsy here, what’s the big trouble?”

Heather hiccuped and Mel was hit with a blast of rum. “You’re still wearing the lipstick.”

“...you’re really not all there right now, are you sweetie?”

Heather’s reputation, her position, her whole life was about to be turned upside down and the only thing keeping her even close to grounded or sane was the hands holding her and Mel’s steady voice. Mel was the only one.

“It really does look good on you.”

“Thanks. See, even you can be nice sometimes....though you are wasted right now...” Mel smiled tiredly as she tried to think of a way to get Heather to focus. “How about we go inside and get you some water or-?”

“You need a touch up.”

Mel was almost positively certain that Heather pressing her red lips to hers was not in fact going to fix up her own fading lipstick, but at the moment her whole brain was too busy being on the fritz to get into the logistics of makeup application via another person’s mouth.

Heather pulled back and smiled goofily. “You look soooo dumb right now. So, can you go inside the store and get me a pregnancy test so I don’t have to and assholes won’t see me?”

Mel stared off into space as she helped Heather to her feet. “Sure. Let’s get you some water first though while I get a shot.” she ran a hand over her face and tried not to slap it in disbelief; she really needed to wipe her mouth. “Talk about your birthday surprises…”


	14. Talk to Me Now I'm Older

**Author's Note: Not a song from the 80's or before then, but see if you can spot the song reference. Enjoy!**

“So that’s the guy? Dumb looking blonde with a letterman jacket?”

Mel pointed out the window of Heather’s family car; she had made sure she told her driver to roll up the window dividing the space between the front and back of the car for privacy. Heather herself was lying down listlessly in the passenger seat, her coat draped over her like a blanket.

“Yeah. Mel, why are you-?”

“If I’ve gotta go in and buy this thing, and I am getting the most expensive one for accuracy, he’s gonna pay for it. It’s the least he can do for putting you through this.” Mel looked down at her. “And try to remember the pull out method is bullshit next time.”

Heather’s bleary eyes popped open. “Wait, you can’t tell him-!”

“Hey, lay back, you’ll make yourself sick.” Mel gently pushed Heather down on the plush seat that was actually big enough for five people; Heather’s driver was under the impression Mel was a school friend helping Heather through a stomach ache and a migraine. Maybe he did suspect alcohol was involved, but then, he likely didn’t want to be the one to tell the Chandlers their underage daughter had been drinking while they were out on their trip.

“You dummy, you can’t tell that jackass, he’ll tell everyone.” Heather slurred and slapped Mel’s arm weakly. “You dumb….stupid.”

“I’m just going to tell him you’re sick and need medicine.” Mel smiled. “If he’s as dense as he seems, he’ll buy it.”

“Fine. Whatever. And buy me some beer.”

“I think I’ll not do that instead.” Mel replied; she tapped the driver’s window and he rolled it down. “Sir, would you mind pulling into the parking lot in the back? I don’t want these kids teasing Heather for being sick. Teenagers, they’ll make fun of anything, you know?”

“I thought you were in high school?”

“And that’s why I know exactly how we work.”

Once they were parked and Heather was dozing peacefully in the car, Mel walked around the convenience store to the front entrance. Kurt, Ram and what looked like a couple of other football players were trading stories of kegger incidents and roughhousing. Mel shivered in the chilly night air and tried to look not suspicious in any way; she wished she had time to get a coat at least, but Heather was panicked at the idea of waiting any longer to get the test.

“Oh hey there.” Ram intercepted her and nudged Kurt in the side. “Dude, it’s that hot 7-Eleven lady.”

“Yeah, lady, as in too old for you.” Mel raised an eyebrow; was she not supposed to hear that remark? “Look, I’m gonna cut to the chase and make this simple for you. Heather Chandler caught a cold from you and she needs medicine.”

“So?”

“So, since you got her sick, she thinks it’s fair you pay for the meds.”

Kurt frowned and looked around Mel as though he expected someone else was there. “Where is Heather?”

“She doesn’t feel good, so she asked me to bring the medicine to her.” Mel explained simply.

Kurt’s brow furrowed deeply in thought. “But...I’m not sick. At least I don’t think so.”

“It is flu season.” Mel shrugged. “You might have only had a the virus in your system and it got passed along to her instead.”

“Did you sneeze in her mouth?” Ram asked him.

“No dude, gross.” Kurt scratched his hair and shrugged. “So...you didn’t come here to hang out?”

“Nope. I’m on an errand.”

“Sucks.” Ram frowned. “Hey, what about after you give Heather medicine?”

“Oh my god-how old are you two even?”

“Old enough to show you a good time.”

Mel noticed both of them clutching cans covered in brown paper bags. “Personal preferences aside, I’m pretty sure you two are too young for me in a bunch of states, not to mention you’re definitely too young legally in Ohio to be drinking those beers.”

“We’re eighteen.” Ram crossed his arms and him and Kurt shared a nod.

“Yeah, that’s under the legal age limit.”

“Well, maybe we take issue with living in a country that allows us to sign up for war but not drink a beer and bang hot older ladies in certain states.”

"Yeah, we're taking a stand."

Mel pinched the bridge of her nose. “Will you just give me the money so I can buy the medicine already?”

“Fine, here.” Kurt fished a crumpled ten from his jean pocket before slapping it in Mel’s waiting palm.

“Thank you. Try not to get alcohol poisoning, huh kid?”

Mel shook her head and rubbed her arms that were becoming covered in goosebumps; usually she might be more worried about two mentally immature and reckless kids drinking, but right now she was freezing and Heather was probably in much more immediate turmoil at the moment. She tried not to think of what a child of theirs might turn out like.

“Guys, come on, we’re gonna be late for the bonfire!” One of the guys had already gotten into his car and was banging on the side of the door to get Kurt and Ram’s attention.

“Hold on!” Kurt slipped his jacket off his shoulders and held it out. “Here, have Heather give it back to me later. Or you know, when she doesn’t look gross and sick.”

Mel stared at him wryly. “I’ll pass. FYI, women aren't going to sleep with you or your buddy for lending them a jacket.”

“Really?” Ram asked; he actually did look taken aback.

"Really.”

“You sure?” Kurt inquired with what Mel supposed was meant to be suave charm.

“Positive.”

“Oh. That sucks.” Kurt told her soberly. “Well, you look cold anyway.” he tossed the jacket over Mel’s head with a juvenile sort of chuckle as he and Ram bumped fists in unison as though he had just pulled off the world’s cleverest prank.

“Thanks I guess.” Mel took the jacket off her head; it smelled like men’s deodorant and faintly of cigarettes. _“Wow...he is a pig, but maybe there’s hope for him yet.”_

Kurt turned back just before he got into his friend’s car. “Hey, how about in a couple months? I’ll totally be older.”

Mel shook her head. “No.”

“A year?”

“No!”

Kurt shrugged. “Fine, smell you later.”

Mel really did smack herself in the face as she walked into the store. _“Oh for fucks sake...why the hell did she sleep with him in the first place? At least this coat is warm. Wait, is that a sweat stain? Ew.”_

Heather was passed out cold when Mel got back to the car, bag in hand and admittedly comfortable coat zipped up to her neck.

“What the…?” Mel reached down between the seats; an empty mini bottle of rum was tucked in the cushions. _“Goddammit, these kids are fucking retarded.”_

“Where to Miss?” the driver didn’t seem perturbed in the slightest; perhaps he just didn’t care anymore.

“Okay...go to 1251 Ash street. Heather was planning on staying over the night.”

“Certainly.”

Mel sat back and put Heather’s head in her lap to prop it up; if she vomited in her sleep, she might choke to death. “Uh sir? Should her parents know she’s coming over or-?”

“It’s fine Miss.” the driver glanced at her briefly through the mirror with a grim sort of smile. “It would be a long time before we could reach them at any rate. Besides, you seem responsible...for your age.”

Mel smiled sheepishly and settled back in the seat. 

It was lucky that Heather was so light, or it would have been extremely difficult to carry her to the porch and unlock the door while also carrying the shopping bag. The clerk in the convenience store barely blinked when he rang up the test. It never stopped amazing her how oddly desensitized the people of Sherwood could be in certain circumstances.

_“I just don’t understand it. It’s like I’m seeing more and more of this place lately...and I can’t say it’s pleasant...”_

Mel sighed as she laid Heather down on her bed and read over the pregnancy test instructions; the jacket was draped carelessly over the foot of the bed. She felt confused; Heather seemed to actually trust her. And the boy who might have knocked her up had done something kind for a woman without pushing for sex.  
 _“Not that he’d turn it down.”_ Mel reminded herself with an eye roll. “ _But still...what’s wrong with these kids? They might actually have the potential to be decent people, but they’ve trapped themselves in this teenage hierarchy bullshit.”_

If pressed, Mel would say she believed the results were due to a few factors; neglectful parents, typical teenage hormones and recklessness, an environments that rewarded their subsequent behavior when they immersed themselves into the roles they were expected to play.

 _“Jason’s wrong...it’s not the Heathers that are toxic. It’s more than that. It’s this whole place…”_ Mel frowned and sat down heavily next to Heather. _“But nothing will change unless they want it to….well, let’s focus on one disaster at a time.”_

She gently shook Heather’s shoulder and was treated to a light slap on the cheek for her trouble.

“Stop fucking shaking me, I have a headache.”

“Yeah, who’s fault is that?” Mel rubbed the slight red mark and shoved the test in Heather’s limp hand. “You just have to pee on the tab and then you lay it down flat for twenty seconds. If it’s a plus sign, you have a bun in the oven. If it’s a negative sign, you don’t.”

Heather rubbed her forehead and looked at the test blankly. “Alright.”

What only took maybe three minutes felt like a lifetime; when Heather came back out of the cramped bathroom, her expression was vacant and tears were threatening to overflow. The pit in Mel’s stomach became a huge knot.

“Oh my god…”

Heather handed her the test. Negative.

Mel put a hand to her mouth and sighed. “Oh my god, don’t scare me like that! Jesus, you look like you saw a ghost...you didn’t right? Did you see an old lady?”

Heather’s eyes flickered to life. “ A what?”

“Eh, long story.” Mel took the test to the trash, tossing it in with relief. “How do you feel?”

Heather ran fingers through her tangled hair. “I need a drink.”

“I can get you some hot cider.” Mel went to the refrigerator and took out a jug. “Just let me heat it up on the stove. Are you hungry? I can order take out.”

“I wouldn’t have kept it.”

Mel stopped what she was doing and put down the cider. “You mean you’d abort the baby?”

Heather looked her point blank in the eyes. “What if I do?”

“It’s up to you. I doubt that Kurt kid or you are ready to be parents. Not to mention with how much you’ve been getting wasted and how long the baby was inside, you might have done some serious damage. At any rate, it’s your decision.”

Heather leaned back on the counter; she had changed out of her wrinkled and booze smelling clothes and borrowed one of Mel’s sweaters. “So?”

“So what?”

“Nothing.” Heather said abruptly. “Give me some cider.”

“It’s non alcoholic you know.”

“Are you trying to poison me?”

“Hardly. By the way, that kid let me borrow his jacket; give it back to him for me, will you?”

Heather looked at her in disgust. “Tell me you didn’t say you’d sleep with him?”

“Are you fucking high? No way.” Mel blanched.

“Why’d he give you the jacket?”

Mel shrugged and waited for the cider to begin simmering in the pan. “He saw I was cold.”

Heather laughed cynically. “Wow, what a gentleman.”

“Hey, you’re the one who slept with the guy.” Mel reminded her. “I mean, no judgments, but he doesn’t really seem like your type.”

“Just because I kissed you, doesn’t mean I’m some dyke.”

Mel raised an eyebrow skeptically. “That wasn’t what I meant, but now that you mention it, that’s not how you apply makeup.”

“I was drunk.” Heather examined her nails.

“I know. So, why Kurt?” Mel changed the subject to avoid her wrath.

“He’s on the team. He’s the star, him and Ram. And I was bored. Who else would I go to?”

“I guess it’s better than that one asshole.” Mel remembered the creep from the bar who must have been about as old as her at least. “If you want to mess around, I’d at least do it with a guy you wouldn’t feel ashamed of later.”

“What do you know?” Heather huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “I bet the only guys you hook up with are losers from that bar.”

Mel laughed. “I’ve never done anything actually.”

Heather actually looked confused. “Come again?”

“I’ve never done it with anyone.” Mel said as she began pouring the steaming cider in a chipped mug; she handed it to Heather, who was still staring at her like she was a creature from another planet. “What?”

“You’re a virgin?”

“Yeah.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious.” Mel said.

“What about third base?”

“No?”

“Second?”

“Nope.”

Heather put down her cup hard and her mouth was hanging down in disbelief. “Have you actually kissed anyone before?”

“No.” Mel admitted. “I dated a few guys when I moved here, but...well, there just wasn’t any spark. I mean, maybe if Axl Rose was on the market…”

“Was I your first kiss?”

Mel was taken off guard. “I guess technically.”

“Wow.” Heather was grinning wickedly. “A twenty something year old virgin. You’re shitting me. Do you even have a life?”

Mel frowned and put a hand on her hip. “What’s your problem with me? One minute you’re begging me for help and now you’re treating me like shit.”

“So? It’s not like we’re friends or anything. This was a one time thing. I needed your help and I’ll be out of your hair once my clothes are dry.”

“That’s funny, because an hour ago you were blubbering and going on about how none of your friends gave a shit about you and how you deserved it. I might be wrong, but you sounded pretty damn unhappy about it.” Mel said lightly. “That’s not even mentioning how you were practically clinging to me most of the ride from the bar.”

“I was not!” Heather denied vehemently. "Someone like you wouldn't get it; you're a nobody. Not that it's any of your business."

“Yeah, but you just spent the night making it my business. One second you’re acting like a decent person and the next you’re pushing me away, and don’t say it’s not intentional. If you want to avoid making nice with people, fine. But if you end up miserable for it, then just keep in mind you chose “power” over that.” Mel retorted as she sipped calmly at her own drink that she had spiked with vodka; Heather glared. “Hey, I’m of age. It’s my birthday anyway.”

Heather huffed and tried to flip her hair over her shoulder, but only managed to get it more tangled. Mel sighed and put down her cup on the counter.

“Sit on the couch. I’ll help fix you up; keep drinking that stuff, it’ll settle your stomach.”

Heather complied reluctantly, back and shoulders stiff as Mel went off to fetch a brush; she took a large swig of her cider and wished desperately for something to stave off sobriety. She needed it now more than ever.

“So, do you like me?” Mel asked as she sat behind Heather and began taking the bottom strands of her hair in her hand. “I mean, I can’t imagine why a “popular” girl would turn to someone she thinks is a loser.”

“You’re not completely annoying.” Heather gripped the mug so hard she’d thought it’d burst. “ _So what, she’s just going to ignore earlier? Well duh, I was drunk. She probably thinks I wasn’t thinking straight. So to speak.”_

Which was true; in her panic and desperation and drunken haze, the temptation of Mel sitting barely a few inches from her face had been too much.

“You know, you’re sort of dumb...but you’re not stupid.”

“Thanks sweetie. You know, for someone so much smarter, you make a lot of bad decisions. Of course, you’re also sixteen so…” Mel trailed off as she took her time untangling the blonde knots. “Heather, be honest. I can’t have been the only person to go to. I mean, if you really wanted to, why not have your driver take you out of town to get the test? Or go to that women’s clinic, they could have given you a free one; anything that happens there is confidential.”

“I didn’t know who else to go to.”

“But-”

“I knew you wouldn’t...look at me differently. You wouldn’t hold it against me. You give me shit for plenty other crap.” Heather sent her a look from the corner of her eyes. “But...I guess it’s for good reasons. Still, if I started acting like you, I’d kill myself.”

“Am I that boring?”

“You missed your whole party and spent the night helping me and...all I’ve done is...get mad…” Heather sounded like it was achingly painful to say these words out loud. But then, for someone like her, it probably was. “You’re not getting anything out of this.”

“I don’t want anything.”

“You’re being a pushover. You need to grow some balls and stop taking my shit.”

Mel paused. “I don’t feel that way at all.”

“Sure.”

“I mean it, Heather. If anything, you seem to be hurting yourself as much as you hurt anyone else.”

“I’m doing just fine.”

 _“If you say so.”_ Mel continued to brush Heather’s hair despite the tangles being combed out; Heather didn’t say anything of it.

“If you’re holding out for someone special to fuck, you won’t find them here. Personally, I’d rather not go through life as a nun.”

“If you can live with it. Personally, I’ll stick to my toys for now.”

Heather coughed and a spittle of cider made it’s way down her chin and onto Mel’s sweater.

“What, that’s too vulgar for you?” Mel asked in disbelief.

“D-don’t look down on me like I’m some slut for having sex!” Heather spat as she struggled to clear her throat.

“I never said that. And anyway, that’s pretty hypocritical seeing as how you just got done laughing at me for being a virgin.”

“Whatever. Anyway, maybe you need to find someone who won’t let you be such a pushover.”

“And you should find someone who will call you out on your bullshit.” Mel retorted. “Or at least someone who actually likes you for another reason other than being beautiful.”

Heather didn’t have a come back; her slowly sobering brain was buzzing.

 _“So, she thinks I’m beautiful…? I mean, of course she does. Everyone does. She’d be blind if she didn’t. Why do we always end up talking about this kind of shit? But what else can we talk about?”_ Heather frowned and stared down at her cup, trying to think clearly. _“And why do we need to have a topic to talk about?”_

“Where’s your bobby pins?”

“Huh?”

Mel was searching through her mane; the back of her neck tingled. “I thought you had bobby pins.”

“Right...I guess they fell out.” Heather told her as she turned around to face Mel as the dryer beeped. “I think my clothes are done.”

“Hold on,” Mel unclipped the rose in her hair and took the chunks of locks that were falling in Heather’s face. With a satisfied nod, she managed to tuck them back behind securely. “There, you can borrow this for now.” Mel took the empty mug and went to the laundry closet. “You can use my phone if you’re ready to call your driver.”

Heather wordlessly nodded and took her now spotless clothes from the dryer to change in Mel’s room. With a nasty grimace, she folded up Kurt’s jacket to take back as promised; maybe she’d just have a little accident with it. Something that involved fire. Or a wood chipper.

_“That’s it. Fuck it. No more pussyfooting around.”_

“What’s your phone number?”

Mel cocked her head to the side; she had just finished rinsing their cups. “Mine?”

“I’m taking you out to dinner tomorrow night and I need to have a way to contact you.”

“Heather,” Mel sighed and dried off her hands with an old dish towel. “I already told you, you don’t owe me anything-”

“You need to get out more. And I don’t mean to that dive bar, I mean to an actual restaurant, some place with atmosphere and clean floors.” Heather finished as she checked her hair in her little mirror; she was all set and ready, looking as though nothing had ever happened. “I’m going to introduce you to a little culture. Maybe then you’ll see the appeal of actually having a social life.”

Mel crossed her arms with a challenging smile. “Aren’t you just sweet? Okay then, but if you’re paying, I want steak.”

“Fine.” Heather said simply; she heard a honk outside in the street. “That’ll be...whatever his name is.”

“Geez, you don’t even know your own driver’s name?”

“I usually drive myself.” Heather said as if it was the most obvious thing. “And do me a favor? Wear something that isn’t covered in grease stains or has holes?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Mel wondered if maybe she would regret accepting Heather’s gesture; and then her guest did a peculiar thing.

“Make sure you do.” Heather put her hands on Mel’s shoulders and reached up to plant a brief peck on her cheek. “And if you say anything to anyone about the test, I will kill you and use your blood to dye my scrunchie.”

Mel wasn’t sure what to do as Heather walked with confidence out the front door without so much as a look back.

On one hand, Heather was back to her old self.

On the other hand...Heather was back to her old self.

 _“Oh boy…”_ Mel scratched at her cheek and sighed. _“Dear lord, please don’t let me regret helping out this kid.”_

It was funny though. So far every teenager she came across seemed to have some sort of unchecked, borderline self destructive issue. The Heathers were toxic; god only knew what Heather Duke and Heather McNamara had going on to make them stay in line with someone so unbalanced and mixed up herself. Ram and Kurt were more typical, but even so, Mel wondered if they’d grow up as boorish and narrow minded and sex crazed as they were now; the men in town weren’t the best role models on how to treat a lady, Gary being the exception. For not the first time, Mel was lucky to have escaped high school unscathed and relatively anonymous, aside from her reputation as someone not to pick a fight with.

And J. D. was another case altogether; Mel could only gather so much from him, but it seemed he had an unnaturally cynical take on the whole world, particularly his equally lost peers. It was more sad than anything else.

_“If Jason were here, he’d want me to kick her out...but...maybe Heather grew up a little tonight..."_

Mel was grateful J. D. hadn’t made an appearance at all that night; the last thing she needed was a squabble on her hands.

“What a night…”

“Evening m’lady.”

Mel jumped a foot in the air as J. D. swept into the kitchen; she hadn’t even heard him come in. He smirked and shed his jacket, draping it over the chair before leaning on the exact same space Heather had not half an hour ago. He was holding something behind his back, making sure to keep it from her field of vision as she moved to peer over at it.

“What’s up? You-” J. D.’s mouth was parted but no other words came out.

“Sorry Jason, I was spaced out.” Mel chuckled and went over to take his coat and hang it in the closet. “And don’t leave your stuff out. You’re the one who told me I should try to keep this place tidier.”

J. D. made no reply; Mel frowned and looked into his blank eyes with concern.

“Jason? What’s wrong?”

With a vaguely strained smile, J. D. tapped his right cheek; Mel slowly reached up to touch her own.

When she pulled her fingers away, they were smeared with red lipstick.


	15. Love's Slippery Slope

**Author's Note: So, fun fact, today (Mel's birthday) is World Mental Health Day. Something both her suitors lack unfortunately. Also, see if you can find the movie reference.**

J. D. was seeing red. Literally.

“Oh. Look at that.” Mel took a tissue from the box placed in the middle of the dining room table; J. D. watched with the same plastered on smile as she searched through her purse and took out her little mirror to make sure she was properly wiping off the kiss mark.

“Sounds like you had a crazy night.” J. D. commented lightly. “Did someone at the bar get a bit too drunk?”

“No.” Mel said casually as she finished cleaning off her face. “It’s a funny story actually. I ran into Heather on my way home from Sheila’s.”

“You ran into Heather Chandler? In this neighborhood?”

Mel bit her lip; why should she lie? It wasn’t a big deal. She wasn’t sure J. D. would buy anything less than the truth. “She came to see me.”

“What for?” J. D. was fighting to keep the accusatory tone from his voice as he continued to keep a cool head.

“Well, it’s sort of private.” Mel confessed as she grabbed a seat at the table. “What’s behind your back?”

J. D. pulled the surprise from his back. “Thought I’d pick you up a little birthday present.”

Mel blinked as he tossed the bouquet of pink roses on the table. “Oh, thank you.” she smiled warmly. “I’m surprised these were in season.”

“Did you have fun together?”

Mel steeled herself. “Jason, I’m feeling like you’d be upset if I said yes.”

“No. Just disappointed. I thought you would know better than to get involved with one of the resident harpies.” J. D. said, moving with a casual gait as he sat down next to her. “And let me take a wild guess and say you actually invited her inside.”

“Yes.”

“What for?”

“I told you, that’s not for me to say.”

“Keeping secrets from me now? Damn Mel, I’m hurt.” J. D. chuckled bitterly as he began patting his back pocket looking for a cigarette. “You got a light?”

“Jason, she needed my help. I know you don’t think much of her, but-”

“She’s started rumors about other kids that would make your ears bleed. That stone cold bitch has the whole school terrorized and she’ll fuck you over the first chance she gets.” J. D. continued with a mocking smirk. “Did she tell you any of that while she was playing the victim? And you let her in the house-”

“Okay, let’s get something straight.”

J. D.’s smile fell as Mel stood up and loomed over him with a cold glower.

“This is my house. I pay the bills. You don’t get to tell me who I can’t have over. And yeah, I know she’s a bitch. I’m not stupid.”

“I didn’t say that.” J. D. told her evenly. “I’m saying, you must realize she’s not worth helping.”

“She’s a teenage girl who didn’t have anyone else to go to,” Mel continued sternly. “And she knows why. You can hate her all you want, but I’m the adult and I’m going to act like it. And, for your information, she invited me out to grab something to eat tomorrow night just to say thank you for my help.”

"And you're actually going to go?"

"Yes I am."

J. D. wanted to snap the roses in half and use the thorns to gouge out Heather Chandler’s eyes.

“A lot of fun that'll be. In the first place, you really shouldn’t help assholes get back on their feet.” he said ominously, voice shaking as he tried to hold back.

“Don’t fucking tell me what I should and shouldn’t do.”

J. D. almost shrank back as she smacked the table. “I’m just trying to look out for you Mel. That Heather is bad news. Everyone knows it. If she said anything or did anything to make you feel bad for her, it was planned. Heather Chandler is someone who needs to be stopped; if she was having trouble, than I’d say karma’s a bitch.”  
“I don’t care if she was the Wicked Witch of the West, I’m not just going to ignore someone who needs my help!"

J. D. stared at her with a look of disbelief. “Are you that naive?”

“You know what? Call it whatever you like.” Mel turned away from him. “I’ve had a long fucking night. I’m going to get ready to sleep. Do what you want.”

“Hey, hold on a sec. Mel, don’t be like that.” J. D. called after her, but she just went straight to her bedroom and closed the door. “Shit.”

J. D. followed her and came to the shut door with a sigh. “Mel, come on.”

“Jason, don’t come in.”

“Mel, just listen to me, I didn’t mean to piss you off.” J. D. opened the door; he was ready to apologize even if he didn’t quite mean it.

“Jason!”

Mel was halfway out of her uniform, her hands gripping the top back up to her chest as she stared at him with panicked eyes. J. D. was frozen to the spot.

“Dammit, I told you not to come in!”

“Sorry.”

J. D. slammed the door shut and buried his hands in his hair, trying to control his temper and his breathing; another second and he might have jumped her and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to slap some sense into her or force his tongue down her mouth until she couldn’t speak Heather’s name again. It was bad enough seeing the kiss mark. It was sickening to think of. Had the bitch been in Mel’s room? What was so damn private?

Why was it so fucking important? Who cares about keeping a promise to the most untrustworthy person in Westerberg?

Why was Mel so ready to protect the one person who was a menace to everyone around her?

“Jason, stay out there while I change. We’ll talk in a minute.” Mel called out in exasperation as she pulled over a sweater that went to her knees; she sighed and brushed out her hair at the dresser. She was exhausted, but she also didn’t want to go to bed mad.

“Jason?” Mel opened the door; down the hall she could see J. D. slumped over on the couch, one hand gripping his arm. The roses were lying despondent on the coffee table. She felt a stab of guilt as she sat down next to him.

“Jason, I know you’re just trying to help. But that’s the thing.” Mel said firmly yet gently. “I don’t need your help. I’m an adult. I’m not someone Heather could exploit even if she wanted to. And I’m not trying to be mean, but who I decide to hang around with isn’t any of your business.” she grimaced. “I mean, unless I decide to let a crackhead or a murderer live here, but you get what I mean.”

“She’ll just hurt you Mel. I told you, she’s nothing like you. She doesn’t care about anyone as long as she gets her way.” J. D. said lowly, his hand rubbing up and down the inside of his arm. “Everyone’s like that. You should be more careful or they’ll take advantage of you.”

J. D. looked up; Mel was laughing softly. “What’s so funny?”

“She told me the exact same thing.”

J. D. glared down at the ground. “I’m not like her. I’d never hurt you Mel.”

“Not everyone is out to get someone. People like Heather aren’t the rule, they’re the exception. And that being said, people can change.”

“I’m sorry I came by so late. My dad was really messed up tonight.”

Mel frowned at the change in topic. “It’s okay. I told you you could come by whenever.”

“I know. But it’s your birthday and I just made you upset.” J. D. chuckled self deprecatingly as he scratched at his wrist. “I knew roses wouldn’t make up for it, but I thought of you when I saw them, so…happy birthday.”

“Thank you. I really do like them.” Mel’s tentative smile fell immediately when her gaze swept over J. D.’s arm. “Jason….”

J. D. blinked and looked back and forth to where her eyes were staring. “Oh. Sorry. Most of these are older than they look.”

Mel tried to remain unphased but she couldn’t help gasp at the brightest red cut; it was just beginning to scab over. “Jason, when…? Did you...I mean, did you do that today?”

“I wanted to come by and see you this morning, but I had school. A few jocks ganged up on me to be dicks and then my dad was being a drunk asshole...guess it was stupid of me to do, but I didn’t have a slushie on hand, so…”

“Why didn’t you call me?!”

“I didn’t want to bug you. Thought you’d be out with friends.” J. D. said softly, making sure to keep the hint of resentment hidden. “I was going to wait until tomorrow to come by, ‘cause I thought you should get a break from putting up with me, but-”

“You can come here whenever you want. Don’t ever think you’re a bother dammit.” Mel leaned over to pull him in a tight bear hug; he felt her tears on his shirt. “God, I wish you would have called me. Jason, I don’t care what time or what day, you get out of there, you get a hold of me if you feel like you’re going to-to do this….I’m sorry. I had no idea…” she gulped and tried to calm down herself, tried to keep it together for him. No matter how awful things became, she never once contemplated self harm.

J. D.’s arms came up to hug her back. “I’m sorry for earlier. You’re the only one who even gives a damn if I did this. I just want you to be safe. You always think about other people...I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not! Don’t ever think that, I mean it. If you do, you’re cut off from slushies, I swear.” Mel held him tighter as she internally cursed his father, the high school, the whole town. How could such awful things be happening to these kids and no one even bothered to lift a finger to step in?

J. D. was smiling wickedly; he could see the cleaned kitchen knife placed back carefully in the wooden block from where he was sitting. It was true, it had been years since he had experimented with ways to dull the pain, but he knew to get Mel back on his side, he needed to use drastic measures. He knew she would forgive him; he was still internally kicking himself for nearly undoing all the progress he had been making.

 _“I shouldn’t have jumped on her like that. Mel can’t help it if Heather has her fooled. She doesn't know any better. Look at what she did for me? She’s lucky I’m not someone who would take advantage of her.”_ J. D. was trying so hard not to burst into laughter; Mel’s warm embrace and the view he was getting of her bare legs more than made up for the stinging of his wrist.

It was Mel’s genuine kindness that drew him in after all; he almost felt amazed that someone could actually find it in their heart to feel empathy for Heather Chandler. Not sympathy; she was pitiful, but Mel actually cared. She truly saw something good, ot at least not worth her disdain  in one of the worst people J. D. had the displeasure to meet.

In truth, he loved her for it. And that worried him.

“I love you Jason.”

J. D. felt his eyes snap open and his mouth dry up.

“I mean it. Believe me, I care so much about you. Please don’t do this again. You have to come to me if you’re feeling this way. I didn’t think....” Mel chuckled and patted his head. “I can give you someplace to stay until you’re able to find somewhere of your own. I can listen. But that’s really all I can do. Well, we both know how dumb I am.”

“You’re not dumb Mel. You can see people for who they are...who they can be.”

Maybe, just maybe, Heather Chandler wasn’t a lost cause. If Mel could reach him, maybe she could make Heather take a step back and see the bigger picture like he had.

But maybe J. D. didn’t want to admit that.

“At least one good thing came out of me moving again.” J. D. told her wryly; he prayed she would keep holding him for another few minutes, but then she was pulling back and the warmth he felt was zapped away.

“I’d prefer it if your dad got his act together and treated you like a son. That’s what parents should do. They should be there for their kids to go home to...not make it impossible to survive.” Mel wasn’t often bitter, but when she was, J. D. could always tell.

But it worked for him. Her bitterness, her anger was welcome if it was on his behalf.

It was petty, but it was also for her benefit. Heather simply didn’t know how to be with someone like Mel. J. D. was completely different; he was taking and giving. He had something to gain and something to provide.

“Mel, you really meant what you said?” J. D. asked, his eyes cast down; he wanted to look as nonthreatening as possible. “You don’t have to say that; I won’t off myself because I’m lonely. It was just a slip.”

Mel shook her head with a sad sort of smile. “Jason, I wouldn’t say that if I didn’t mean it.”

She pulled him into another hug; it had been years since she had to reassure anyone like this. Mel could only somewhat recall her little brother sulking on their porch, his headphones gone; a bully had taken them and Mel had made sure to get them back, but in the meantime, Jason had needed someone. Her parents would only tell him to man up and stop pouting, so he never did go to them. Whenever he felt sad or frustrated, it was Mel who he would ask for hugs, even to the day he died. It was her who wiped his tears and promised that one day, they would go someplace far, far away and he could count on her and cry whenever he needed to without fearing reprimanding from their parents.

But that day never came and there was so many things she wanted to tell him before he died. Mel would never get to tell him how much he meant to her. She’d never get to have the chance to take him away from that awful place; other forces at work had beaten her to it.

“I mean it. I love you very much.” Mel told J. D. once more. _“I’ll never go back to shoving people away. What if he decided to kill himself tonight? What if things got really bad and he never knew there was someone out there who cared?”_ she decided to let the Heather issue drop completely; now was not the time.

J. D. melted; he had to bite his own tongue hard to keep it from coming loose. He didn’t want to say it back until he knew Mel would accept it completely. If he said it now, she’d be under the impression it wasn’t nearly close to what he truly meant to convey with those words.

Heather Chandler needed to just go away. Why was she intruding? Why was she trying to spoil their happiness? Wasn’t it enough she had everyone at Westerberg groveling at her feet? Wasn’t it enough every guy wanted her and every girl wanted to be her and more?

But then, J. D. couldn’t say he didn’t understand; if their positions were switched, he would never give a second thought to the mindless zombies and ass kissers who were fair weather friends at best. He was certain that Heather would tell them all to go to hell if it meant being with the one person who truly cared; that is, if she had a shred of integrity in her shriveled heart.

Mel deserved so much more; he would be the one to give her the world. He would be the only one to worship her, provide for her, fight for her, die for her, kill for her. J. D. just needed to make her see and he was already so close.

He had waited his whole life for someone to see him and he’d drop dead before he let someone like Heather take it away. She could rot in the hell she had made for herself for all he cared. It was due to her lust for power and her disregard and utter lack of empathy for others that had led her to where she was.  She was digging her own grave and J. D. would be more than happy to be the one to shove her in. The mental image of him and Mel picnicking on her grave made his smile grow wider as he nuzzled into Mel’s shoulder and took in the scent of her sweater greedily.

“I can handle myself...still you’re sweet to be so concerned. I know we don’t exactly see eye to eye, but I don’t care. Your heart’s in the right place; you shouldn’t feel like you’re a burden to anyone. You’re a damn good person. It’s why I love you Jason.”

“Say it again…?” he made his voice meek and slightly embarrassed like the vulnerable boy she thought he was. It was too easy, and yet it was no less satisfying to know he had her on his side.

Mel laughed and patted his head like he was a small child; she saw no harm in indulging him this once. Not when he needed it the most. “I love you….in fact, I love you as much as Steven Tyler loves cocaine. And that was scientifically proven to be a shit ton.”

J. D. chuckled and tried to discreetly brush his face against her hair. “Mel, did you like the roses? I was actually thinking of a CD or something. I planned to go shopping for a late gift tomorrow. The flowers were last minute...I would have felt weird coming today without anything.”

“Ah, screw that.” Mel ruffled his hair in a playfully rough way. “Your presence is my present. And I like roses anyway. Oh!” she stood up and grabbed the bouquet with a suddenness that made J. D. regret not making her stay seated. “I better put these in water before they wilt. Did you eat yet?”

“Is that Chinese place still open?” J. D. asked. “I’ve got money. Let me treat you.”

Mel beamed. “Sure. Sit tight, I’ll get the menu.” he could hear her searching through her junk drawer where she kept twist ties to bread packages and used grocery bags and old take out menus. “Hey, when’s your birthday?”

“November sixth.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Oh that’s Saxophone Day.” Mel said nonchalantly; at J. D.’s quirked eyebrow, she smiled. “I crashed a band party in high school. This kid stole my brother’s headphones. He played the saxophone; I crushed his windpipe.”

J. D. looked at her with awe. “No shit?”

“Nah, I’m kidding! I just punched him in the throat.” Mel said dismissively as she continued her search. “He sucked anyway, sounded like two dead rats fucking.”

“Do you like the saxophone?”

Mel shrugged. “I was never into it much, Maybe if it was in a rock song, but isn’t it mostly for jazz and stuff?”

“I play.”

“Really?!”

“I can play for you on my birthday. ‘Tis the season.” J. D. joked without really thinking; all he knew was that Mel was staring at him like he had just said he had the cure for AIDS. He never wanted her to stop. Everything was right in the world. Mel was happy, he was happy, they were spending quality time together; they were celebrating the day his only chance of salvation had come into the world. She was halfway to falling in love with him. Everything was going to be okay.

“Great. I’m sure I’ll like it if it’s from you.” Mel said; she held up a battered piece of paper victoriously. “Found it, on me! Let’s get some food!”

J. D. barely paid attention to the list of food; he kept thinking about how this year would be the year life would finally be worth living. On his eighteenth birthday, he’d be free to live with her. He could wake up every day to the sound of her voice. No one would be able to come between them.

Tomorrow Heather Chandler would see what happened when someone dared to.


	16. You Touched My Mind

Mel was currently between a rock and a hard place.

 _“Okay...if I don’t wear this I won’t be able to get my foot through the door.”_ she sucked in a breath and tried to look at herself objectively in the mirror. _“On the other hand, I feel like I’m going to faint from nervousness...that might make it hard to eat if I’m dead…”_

“Are you done yet?!” Heather continually banged against the bathroom door.

Mel groaned and sent an irritated look over her shoulder despite knowing it wouldn’t be seen. “Breaking down the door isn’t doing to make me ready any faster.”

“Like I care. It already took you forever to pick out something, so just put it on and get your ass out here.”

“Okay, okay. Just a few more minutes.” Mel sighed heavily.

On one hand Heather had been very generous to take her out shopping for a proper outfit; on the other, she was the pushiest person Mel had ever met in her life. Mel pulled up the top of her dress a little higher; it wasn’t that she didn’t like it per say. Actually, she could hardly recognize herself.

That being said, the unfamiliarity was making her that much more anxious; Mel couldn’t care less what people thought of her typically, but eating at a restaurant located in a swanky hotel owned by friend’s of Heather’s parents was a different story.

 _“I can’t back out now. I don’t think that kid would let me forget it...and it does sound like a nice change of pace.”_ Mel refrained from biting her lip so she wouldn’t ruin her gloss; she insisted on wearing it so she’d feel a little more comfortable in her skin. It matched the bright pink color of the dress better in her opinion anyway. _“Okay, just cool it. Heather swore up and down this looked good. And if she was lying, she knows I can kick her ass. You’re going to go out, do something new, and have fun! Probably.”_

“Mel, are you taking a shit or are you just trying to piss me off?”

“Alright, geez.” Mel glanced at her reflection one last time before opening the door and grabbing her handbag. “I feel more bad making Charlie wait.”

‘Who?”

“Charlie.”

Heather frowned.

“...he’s your driver.” Mel said dryly.

“We’re taking my car.” Heather rolled her eyes. “And Chester couldn’t care less if I remember who he is. We pay him to drive us when we need it, end of story, he gets his paycheck.”

“Did you purposely call him by the wrong name or did you honestly forget?”

Heather grabbed Mel’s arm. “Come on, just hustle.”

Mel sighed once more and gently pulled her arm out of Heather’s grasp. “Heather, don’t you think it’s a little strange for a teenager to be dragging an adult around like a show poodle?”

“No, seeing as you have no idea what you’re doing.”

“I think I can find the way outside my own house.” Mel replied as she took out her key, ready to lock the door behind her once they were gone. “I’m serious Heather, don’t think for a second you can talk to me like you talk to those girls. I’d call them your friends, but I don’t know who orders their friends around.”

“I don’t order them around. I offer direction, guidance, and superior knowledge.” Heather reached up to adjust the Mel’s hair clip. “The rose is a nice touch.”

“Thanks for not losing it.” Mel said with a half smile as she slipped on her matching pumps; she hoped Heather wasn’t planning on making them do a lot of walking. “So, who are we meeting up with? Are they friends of yours or just your folks?”

“They’re more like associates.”

“What, are they the mob?”

“Haha. No, they do business with my father.” Heather said as she brushed her hair away from her neck and to one side. “We won’t need to eat with them, but I have to suck up a bit.” she huffed dramatically. “They’re all a bunch of white bread, snoresville socialites. But like I said, the night won’t be too ruined; a few minutes of small talk, blah blah blah, ‘oh my god, what a nice tie!’ and we can enjoy ourselves.”

“Why not invite Heather and Heather?” Mel suggested. “It might be more fun if there’s more people you like being around.” she stared blankly as Heather frowned. “I mean, you do like them...at least a bit…?”

“They’re not useless.”

“Oh come on.”

“Does it matter? It’s hard to really like someone when you know they’d end  up stabbing you in the back given the opportunity.”

“I’d rather be alone in that case.” Mel raised an eyebrow, but she felt a little flattered; despite her claims that it was for her own good and education, Heather was willingly inviting her somewhere to keep her company, and to thank her. Mel would bet all the money she had Heather rarely, if ever, gave straightforward gratitude. Still, it was depressing in a way.

_“Well, let’s just focus on getting to this place.”_

Mel took her key and unlocked the door; just as she pushed it open, J. D. pulled the handle and swept into the room, school bag slung over his shoulder and a casual smile on his face.

“Hey Mel, sorry to barge in. Oh, hey Barbie-oops, sorry, it’s Heather, right?”

Heather didn’t seem able to quite say anything for a moment, so J. D. took the moment to turn back to Mel and look her over up and down.

“Jason-”

“You’ll stop traffic.” he flicked the rose hair clip lightly with a teasing smirk. “I like the new look.”

“Aw, thanks...it’s not too much? I was thinking something with pants, but it sounds like that would’ve been too casual for the dress code.” Mel looked down at the full skirt and smoothed it down, but it only floated just over her knees; the pastel color and the modest bustline made her look comparatively modest next to Heather, who in J. D.’s humble opinion, looked like a high class hooker in the tight red cocktail dress.

“There’s no contest.” J. D. said nonchalantly as he began pulling out books and some paper from his bag to deposit on the dining room table. “Don’t sweat it, it looks good on you.”

The only good thing about Heather Chandler being in the room was how much she put a damper on the atmosphere; if they were alone, his response might have been more enthusiastic. J. D. personally thought the dress would look better ripped off and tossed to the side; he might let her keep on the pumps, but then the moment might be dead in the water if they ended up stabbing him when he wrapped her legs around his waist.

But then he was reminded of where the clothes came from. And then he was reminded of what they were for and who had insisted on putting Mel in a situation where she’d have to dress up in the first place and the fact that Heather Chandler was standing in Mel’s home like she owned the place. And so, J. D. could only take pleasure in the fact this problem would be remedied soon enough.

“Jason, um...would you mind starting the car?” Mel asked Heather, who was glaring between the two of them with a look of disdainful recognition. While she wordlessly stalked off to her waiting porsche, Mel felt her body relax. J. D. looked unexpectedly unphased; maybe their talk the other night had set him straight. Perhaps he didn’t like Heather, and while Mel fully expected for him to avoid coming over when she was going to be there, she was pleasantly surprised that he didn’t seem to be overtly expression his aggression.

“Hope it’s okay I’m here.” J. D. said as he settled in at the table, his books already open. “I thought you’d be out by now. Did I interrupt-?”

“Oh no, we were just leaving.” Mel looked over her shoulder to make sure Heather was indeed outside and in the car. “Is everything okay at home? Do you need me to stay here?”

“Nah, it’s cool. I just needed a quiet place to do my business.” J. D. lazily held up a packet of papers with a lopsided smile. “I’m not here to pick a fight with Malibu Barbie.”

“Okay…” Mel sighed and smoothed out her dress. “Wish me luck. I feel like...how’s that saying go?” she scratched her cheek. “It’s like putting lipstick on a pig or something?”

“You’re not a pig.”

J. D. barely bothered wondering who could have put that idea in her head; the Heathers were all notorious for backhanded compliments. _“Leave it to the reigning queen snob to treat the only person who can stand her like crap. Don’t worry Mel. After tonight, everything will be okay.”_

Mel blinked at the forcefulness of his words. “I didn’t mean it like it sounded; I mean, you can dress me up however you want, but I’m still a novice when it comes to places where you actually can get kicked out for wearing the wrong kind of shoe.”

“Hey, someone able to use the word novice in a sentence without sounding like a pretentious prick should get a free pass.”

Mel laughed and it was like a good omen; he was doing the right thing.

“I’m not sure when I’ll be back. Just eat what you want if you get hungry, watch the TV, take a nap, whatever.” Mel playfully messed up his hair with a cocked grin. “Wish me luck!”

“Luck.” J. D. smiled genuinely, waiting until she was out the door to get his supplies together.

“What’s with the Jesse James imposter?”

“I take it you know him then.” Mel answered lightly as she buckled in; as soon as the seat belt clicked, Heather slammed on the gas and was zooming down the road. “Whoa, what’s the rush?!”

“J. D. is what everyone calls him at school. That and psycho.” Heather replied shortly as she made a sharp turn into the highway. “So, what, are you two related?”

“No.” Mel answered honestly.

“How do you know each other?”

“I sort of just ran into him.” Mel shrugged.

“And you’re just letting him come over your house whenever he wants? You know what his creepy pervert mind is probably thinking of doing?” Heather curled her upper lip in vague disgust.

“Pull over.”

“Oh what, did I insult your kindergarten boyfriend? You know he’s waiting for you to stumble in drunk one of these nights so he can lose his virginity or something. Maybe you should find a guy your age, someone you don’t have to sneak beer for.”

Heather had no idea why she was saying this. _“Wait, I’m younger than him...shit! Well, if I don’t have a shot he doesn’t. God, are psychos the new black or what? What could she see in him?”_

“Pull. Over.”

Heather glanced out of the side of her eyes, trying to focus on the road and not breaking the steering wheel off. “Don’t be such a drama queen.”

“Heather, now.”

The commanding tone sent chills down Heather’s spine and she wasn’t sure how to feel about that as she pulled into a grocery store parking lot.

“What’s your damage?”

“I’m not getting in the middle of your high school drama bullshit. Jason is my friend and if you insult him one more time, you can just take me home right now.” Mel stated.

Heather spent the rest of the car ride chewing the inside of her cheeks while Mel fell into a sulky silence. Once they were in front of the hotel, Mel couldn’t help letting out a sound of awe. They had been driving for nearly an hour to the edge of town, but it was worth it.

“Holy shit.”

“Try to tone the cursing down. Just follow my lead.” Heather advised with a smug sort of smirk at Mel’s marveling eyes. The hotel lobby alone was certainly nicer than anything located in the middle of Sherwood; when Mel found herself trailing after Heather to the entrance of the first floor restaurant, she could hardly believe a place so clean and bright and decoratively high end was even built near the area.

“Heather,” Mel asked tentatively as they made their way through tables topped with candles and white cloths. “Why would your family’s business friends bother putting this place by Sherwood?”

“Technically it’s on the outskirts.” Heather replied as she took a seat at the bar. “You can just stay here when I have to go make small talk and say hello; after that, we can eat.”

Before Mel could say anything, the bartender went up to them from behind the counter; in Mel’s opinion, she didn’t look like any bartender she ever saw. She was wearing what looked like a suit and her smooth hair was pulled back in a neat bun.

_“Wow, even the staff looks high class…”_

“Miss Chandler, it’s nice to see you again. Are you having the usual?”

“No, not yet.” Heather’s tone was pleasantly detached. “But my friend here could use a drink.”

“Good evening, I’m Ashley.” she smiled and gave Mel a cordial nod.

Mel smiled and tried to look not like a nervous wreck. “Hello, I’m-”

“Whatever she orders, put on my tab.” Heather said suddenly before standing up. “Mel, I’m going to go over there for a bit-” she nodded her head to a table consisting of people who looked in their fifties; they were smiling and waving her to join them. “I shouldn’t be too long if I say I’m having dinner with a girlfriend, so just relax here for a bit.”

Mel’s hand had already gone to her purse. “You don’t have to-”

“Bring her an old fashioned to start.” Heather told the bartender. “Mel, do you want to order an appetizer now?”

“I can wait for you.”

Heather vapid smile faltered. “Is that a promise?”

“Uh, sure. I can wait to eat.” Mel nodded.

“Right.” Heather sighed and smoothed down her hair. “Just enjoy yourself. I’ll be back soon.”

Mel gazed after her as she walked over to the table. _“They seem nice...or are they just sucking up to her too? I hope not...”_

“Miss, would you like your drink on the rocks?”

“Oh yes. Thank you.” Mel nodded with an apologetic smile; she wasn’t sure why she felt she needed to be sorry though. She supposed it was because she felt so out of place; maybe Ashley was annoyed at having to serve someone who would never be able to afford to go there on their own, let alone tip her for the exceptional service.

_“I feel weird that Heather’s paying for me too...I mean, I guess I did technically pay for the test...and I did help her out, but still, how could I not? Even if Heather’s mean or snobby, having an unwanted pregnancy is something that would affect her and the baby. It’s a life changing, huge deal. Maybe if Jason knew, he wouldn’t be so quick to say I shouldn’t have helped. At least, I’d hope so…”_

“Here you go Miss.”

“Thank you.” A thought came to Mel so abruptly, she had to refrain from spitting out the first sip of her pleasantly smooth, citrus like beverage. _“Oh my god, she asked Heather if she’d have the usual. Like, what, it’s totally cool to give as sixteen year old booze here? But then, if her family’s well connected, maybe they’d overlook it or at least cut her off from the harder stuff. I’d think they would. Goddammit people, pay attention to your fucking kids...”_

Mel knew her own parents saw her as little more than a waste of their time and energy, but at least they didn’t willingly allow her to drink or smoke or run off to some strangers place to crash before she got a driver’s license. That being said, she also knew it was for appearances sake; as far as she knew, they had never taken any steps to get her back home. Mel knew that while they hadn’t actually meant for her to run off and never return when they told her to hit the road, they weren’t too concerned at the outcome.

 _“I guess no matter where you go, you can’t get away from the ass hats.”_ Mel sipped her drink to keep from chugging it. _“And what about me? If I’m the closest thing Jason and Heather have to actual friends or positive role models, that’s just sad...I barely have it together. How did this happen? Maybe I should have just called the cops and told them about Jason’s dad...but then, would they have done much to help? And what about Heather? Is Jason really right about her? If she keeps doing what she’s doing, will she grow up as another jerk making the whole world harder for everyone else?”_

Mel wanted to slap herself, but it was just so hard to relax.

“Hello.”

Mel inwardly sighed as a man took the unoccupied seat next to her; this was still a bar after all.

“Hello.”

“I’m Davis Howard.”

_“What the hell kind of name is that? His last name should be his first name. Must be a rich people thing. Oh well, might as well be nice until Heather gets back.”_

“I’m Mel.”

“Is that short for Melanie?”

Mel shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Oh wow.”

“Trust me it wasn’t in my top ten either.”

“Oh no, you have the same name as this character from _‘Gone in the Wind'_.”

“Who?”

Davis smiled. “Oh it’s this really long epic focusing and it takes place in the south primarily during the Civil War. It was made into a movie in 1939, but I always liked the book more.”

Mel looked the man over; he must have been about thirty. His eyes continually went from her face to his drink.

“I was never much of a reader.”

“You’ve never heard of it?”

“No.”

Davis’ smile faltered. “Sorry, am I bothering you?”

“Oh no!” Mel said quickly. “I...well, I’m here with a friend, and I’m not used to going to places like this.”

“Yeah, the bar scene isn’t me either.”

“Oh no, I love the bar scene. I’m a part time bartender actually.” Mel scratched her cheek with a sheepish smile. “Get this. It’s like, I’m worried I’ll break something in here and get sued and then be forced to live on the streets. Is that weird?”

“It’s not what I was thinking...but it is pretty hilarious.” Davis pushed up his glasses as he chuckled and stared at his leather shoes. “Look...I saw you and I thought to myself, ‘Hey, look at her, she’s really pretty, why not go talk to her and not be weird and maybe she’ll be as interested in you as you are in her’. But, now I’m realizing I probably just made things even worse, so, I’ll just leave you to enjoy yourself. Sorry.” Davis stood up with a pained half grin. “And, don’t be nervous. You really are beautiful.” he waved. “Bye.”

Mel stared at him as he began to turn away. “Was that whole line planned or did you really just blurt it out?”  
“That was mostly word vomit. It’s true though.”

“Who’s the chick in the book who shares my name?”

Davis blinked. “Melanie?”

“Yeah.” Mel nodded and patted the stool next to her. “Don’t leave me in suspense. Like, what does she do? Is she an evil racist?”

“No. I mean, it takes place in the 1800’s, so everyone was super racist, but other than that, she’s pretty nice. You see, there’s this contrast between her and the main protagonist-”

“Who’s she?”

“Scarlett O’Hara. She’s starts off proud, ignorant, and vain and then develops into a more mature person who’s determined to save her family and their land. Melanie is the woman who ends up marrying the man Scarlett thinks she’s in love with, and they end up forming a sort of friendship, but I won’t give away details!”

“Okay, okay, so what’s Melanie’s deal?”

“She acts as Scarlett’s foil basically; she’s not quite as smart or attractive-”

“You’re not selling me on this book so far-”

“But,” Davis laughed. “She is also compassionate, very gentle, loyal, but she can also fight for herself when she needs to; she loses everything and faces challenges, but then she continues to strive for whst she wants and treats others kindly.”

“Except for her slaves?”

“Pretty much, though she has that mindset of them being lesser beings that need to be watched over, which for the time period was actually considered benign if you can believe it.” Davis smiled dryly. “But once you get over the time period standards-oh hello.” he sat down; Ashley came over to ask for his drink order. “I’d like a gin and tonic, thank you.”

“But what happens with her?”

“Read the book. Or watch the movie.” Davis said blithely at Mel’s pout. “It really is an amazing story. Love it or hate it, the themes, the characters, the writing, I guarantee, it’ll stick with you.”

“I never did read much. I’m more into music.” Mel confessed as she played with the cherry in her glass.

“Music tells stories. What kind do you enjoy?”

“Rock, punk, a bit of metal.”

“I have to say, you don’t look like the type.”

“Don’t judge a book by it’s cover.”

“Keep that in mind if you read _‘Gone with the Wind_ ’.” Davis reminded her. “So, who is the friend brought you here to a new environment?”

“Do you know Heather Chandler?”

“I think so, At least I’ve spoken with her father and uncle.”

“She invited me out to eat, but right now she’s busy.”

“You don’t go to school with her right?”

“Nah. I’m twenty three.”

“Oh thank god.” Davis wiped a hand over his face. “You had me feeling like a creep for a second.”

“Do I look that young?”

“No. Well, it could go either way.” Davis said truthfully. “Do you go to the university?”

“Actually, I never finished my junior year of high school. I’m a part time bartender, part time 7-Eleven employee.” Mel waited for the grimace or lecture.

“How do you do that? I mean, I’d be sweating like crazy trying to remember orders and hoping I mixed the right amount, and then I always hear place like convenience stores get robbed-and sorry, I’m making you uncomfortable…” Davis ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll be honest, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

“Who does?” Mel snorted and took another sip. “You’re okay, really. I actually used to not be so talkative, but sometimes all you need is to meet the right people to get going, you know? Anyway, I like both jobs. And I have a crowbar handy if things get-”

“Out of hand?”

“Boo.”

Davis ran a hand through his cropped hair. “Okay, that was bad. Do I get a point for making you smile?”

“Do you think you should get one?”

“I think your smile should be worth ten.” Davis took his drink and sipped from ther straw with a half smile half grimace. “Was that too drippy?”

“Usually. But you’re not bad with words.” Mel offered him a smile. “Are you a bookworm?”

“And a writer. At least I’d like to be someday.” Davis told her. “I’m currently employed by the owners here as their bookkeeper, which as the name suggests, is unfortunately _not_ about maintaining or reading a vast collection of literature.”

“What do you write?”

“Mostly poems and short stories. I’ve had a few things published, but it seems I don’t have the chops for a mass audience.”

Mel cocked her head to the side. “Audience?”

“Well, I feel like books, music, films, even paintings, they all sort of tell a story right? They’re expressions of the creator and putting them on display for the public always reminded me of putting on a show. Not everyone might agree on the intended meaning or representation, but if it makes people stop and think and remember it, then I can’t help feel as if it’s saying something, and I am saying too much, I barely asked you anything,” Davis smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry Melanie, most everyone says I carry on and on when I get invested-”

“No, don’t apologize.” Mel laughed and slapped his arm playfully. “It’s not like I have much to say on it myself. Besides, I like the way you talk.”

“Awkward rambles? If that’s the case, I can provide a plethora of borderline gibberish and second hand inducing embarrassment for you to put up with.”

Mel smacked her knee, her cackle making almost everyone in the general vicinity on alert.

“You are a riot man!”

Davis chuckled softly. “Really?”

“I mean, your vocab is just far out.” Mel beamed as she tried to contain herself. “Damn, I wouldn’t mind reading your stuff if you write the way you talk-oops, sorry!” she put her fingers to her mouth, having completely forgotten Heather’s advice; Davis was looking nervous, but his eyes weren’t on her or the other patrons. His hand was pulling out a piece of paper.

“If you mean that...would it be presumptuous of me to give you my number before I have to go to my dinner meeting? Unless you’d rather just read my work?”

“Why not both?” Mel took the folded up piece of paper in her hand. “I mean, if you don’t mind giving a shot to chick who doesn’t known Fred Nietzcha from...whatever his name actually is.”

“I always found him a bit depressing honestly. I’d rather read Shakespeare or Jane Austen.” Davis took her hand and gave it a light tap before leaving his stool unoccupied. “Or just listen to your voice over the phone in the near future…..okay, bye!”

Mel blinked a few times to make sure she was still awake.

_“I just got flirted with by a thirty something year old bookkeeper/aspiring author who acts like a teenage girl with a crush. And he gave me his number. And it was already written down.”_

She unfolded the slip after her next drink order was taken; there was indeed his name and number written clearly in black ink. But that wasn’t all.

Forswear it sight, for I ne’er saw true beauty till this night.

Sorry, that was from Shakespeare. But I do think you’re ~~beautiful~~ ~~pretty~~ beautiful. 

Hope to hear from you soon

-Davis

Mel put a hand over her mouth; she was certain smiling like a maniac would be disturbing to the other patrons.


	17. You Promised Me Heaven, Then Put Me Through Hell

J. D. looked up from the table as Mel and Heather stumbled in from the doorway. “Looks like you ladies had a fun evening.”

“Mostly.” Mel had Heather propped up one side of her while she kicked the door closed behind her. “The food was great. I think Heather could have stood to do more eating and less drinking…”

“Those old fogeys were boring me to death.” Heather mumbled as she brought a hand to her forehead; true to form, she still looked ravishingly elegant and had even somehow managed to maintain a polite yet indifferent tone of voice as she spoke and listened to her elders, all of whom seemed none the wiser as she discreetly finished glass after glass of champagne. By the time she had been able to excuse herself to join a tipsy Mel at the bar, she was a couple drinks away from staggering.

J. D. blinked slowly. “And I’m sure you were able to provide Mel with stimulating conversation about shoes and celebrity weddings and-”

“Jason, please, not now.” Mel sighed tiredly as she balanced Heather and made her way to the bedroom. “Can you get me a glass of water? I’m pretty wasted too and unlike some underage drunks, I want to avoid a hangover.”

“On it.” J. D. went straight to the kitchen cabinet to get a clean glass as Mel half carried Heather to her bedroom, silently thanking the powers that be J. D. wasn’t pressing for an argument with a drunk and already easily irritable woman.

“How can those people just let her drink like that?” Mel asked herself for what felt like the hundredth time as she unhooked the straps of Heather’s shoes and placed them near the foot of the bed.

“Don’t tell them what I can’t be doing.” Heather said thickly as she threw an arm dramatically over her eyes. “And pipe down, my head hurts…”

“Already?” Mel asked in exasperation. “See, that’s just what I mean. If you keep drinking like that, you’ll get alcohol poisoning or get into a bad accident, or-”

“Thank you.” Heather cut her off with a dazed sort of mumble. “Thanks...thanks a whooole bunch...and stop talking. You’re so fucking loud.”

Mel frowned in confusion. “What are you thanking me for?”

“You’re actually worried, aren’t you? That’s really sad. You’re sad. Don’t you know anything? I’m a Heather. I feel bad...for you.” Heather bopped Mel’s nose with her palm. “You. Not me. You.”

“Take care of yourself and I wouldn’t worry.” Mel retorted lightly as she made the slowly waving arm lie back down at Heather’s side. “I’m serious. This is really bad for your health. Are your parents really not worried about you drinking at that bar?”

“Nope. The staff won’t say no. Besides, they can’t tell when I’m drunk.”

“Okay, but your mom and dad-”

“Don’t care. And who cares? I’m a teenager, we drink and party.” Heather said like it was dumb of Mel to even question it. “I’m fine, so stop nagging me. You’re not my mom.”

“Good thing, ‘cause I feel like you’d be a handful…” Mel said wryly. “Would you even listen to them if they did tell you not to?”

“They won’t. They let me do whatever I want.” Heather said with a loud yawn. “I can do anything. I’m perfect.”

Mel didn’t miss the slight bitterness in the words. “If I had a kid, I’d be keeping an eye on them… or I’d at least check in while they’re home alone. Does everyone in your class drink like this?”

“Only the ones with a social life.” Heather smiled lazily while Mel carefully pulled out her dangling earrings before they got stuck in her hair. “Brush my hair again.” she clapped her hands like she was ordering a servant to fetch her something.

“Later, okay? I don’t think you’d be able to keep your head up and I don’t want you moving around too much.” Mel chided as she put the jewelry on the night stand. “Try to sleep for now. I’m putting a trash can next to the bed, so if you have to throw up, go on in that.”

“Oh please, I’m not nearly drunk enough for that.” Heather laughed airily. “Hey Mel?”

“What’s up?”

“Did you have fun?”

Mel smiled and nodded. “Yeah actually. And guess what else?” she pulled out the slip of carefully folded paper from her bag. “I got this cute guy’s digits. Do you know Davis Howard? He said he’s talked to your old man and your uncle.”

“You’re kidding?” Heather hiccuped and fixed Mel with a stare that was half disbelieving and half nonplussed; she could feel a surge of red hot anger buried under her fuzzy mind, but the booze was numbing it to a slow burn. “You realize he’s like, ancient.”

Mel looked down at her in surprise. “How old is he?”

“37.”

“Heather, that’s only….twelve years older.”

“It’s fourteen Einstein.” Heather drawled as her head flopped back down on the bed with a heavy sigh. “Well, you’ll see. He never shuts up about books and education and all that bull crap. Guys who’re that smart are too dumb to just have a good time.”

“I don’t know. I had fun.” Mel smiled bashfully. “But...well, if he’s all that smart, I guess he’ll get bored with me pretty fast.”

“Yeah, cause you’re not boring enough for him.” Heather felt herself slipping into sleep reluctantly; she’d convince Mel later. For now, she wanted to focus on not hurling on her sheets.

“I guess I’ll just have to see.” Mel told her with a shrug. “Hey have you seen _‘Gone with the Wind’_?”

“No. In three hours I could watch two movies that won't give me brain cancer.”

Mel rolled her eye. “Good night Heather. Call if you need anything.”

J. D was waiting outside in the hallway with a glass of cold water.

“Thanks.” Mel took it gratefully. “How was your night? Still studying?”

“Yeah, just getting caught up.” J. D. replied. “Sounds like you had a really good time.”

“I did actually. Heather was nice. At least when she was able to get away from those people. I thought they seemed nice though.”

“No wonder she didn’t like them.” J. D. remarked simply.

“I’ll take her home in the morning, okay? Do you mind sleeping on the couch?”

“Where are you going to sleep?”

“I’ll just get my sleeping bag and crash on the floor in my room-”

“You take the couch. I’ll take the bag.” J. D. said immediately. “You’re going to feel like shit in the morning if you lie on the floor.”

“Are you sure?”

“If you don’t mind sharing the living room.”

Mel shook her head and took a long drink; her teeth were feeling sour and her throat dry. “Did you eat?”

“To hear you, you’d think I’d let myself starve.”

“You know what I mean.” Mel nudged his arm with her elbow. “I’ll take you out to dinner someplace nice sometime. Maybe for your birthday if you don’t have plans.”

“If you’re serious, I’d cancel them.”

Mel smiled warmly. “Jason, did you hear everything I said in there?”

“...yeah.”

“I feel a bit...silly. I mean, this guy is out of my league. He’s a total dork, but he’s...I don’t know, he pulls it off. And he’s...charming? I don’t know, maybe it’s ‘cause I’ve never dated a guy with any real substance or personality.” she scratched her cheek with a little sigh. “Geez, I can’t believe that a kid has way more experience with men then I’ve had in my whole life. It’s sad really.”

“I doubt that. Heather probably wouldn’t know a good date if it bit her in the ass.”

“Hey, what’s first base? I was never up on that lingo.”

“Tongue.”

“Oh.” Mel blinked and ran a hand through her hair. “Well, shit that’s nice. In those terms, I haven’t even gone up to bat.”

J. D. shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned casually against the table while Mel refilled her glass in the kitchen sink. “I thought you dated?”

“Sure, a few guys.” Mel admitted. “But nothing ever happened. One of them tried to kiss me at the door, but I was already going inside and he ended up accidentally falling forward and smashing his nose on the doorknob. Needless to say, he didn’t call me back.”

Mel chuckled and downed her second glass before going back in the bedroom to change into her night gown. J. D. went to the shoe and coat closet as instructed and pulled out a musty blue sleeping bag from the top shelf; he decided it wouldn’t be too odd to move the coffee table to lay it next to the sofa. Mel was still pretty buzzed herself, and he doubted she’d even think twice if she was sober. She trusted him.

 _“No, she thinks I’m not looking at her that way.”_ J. D. corrected as he listened to the sounds of her brushing her teeth; he could hear snoring and presumed it was Heather, unconscious and dead to the world, unfortunately not in the literal sense. Maybe with any luck she’d choke on her own alcohol induced vomiting in her sleep.

 _“She didn’t sound to happy about this Davis guy either.”_ J. D. mentally noted. _“Fourteen years difference. Is that her type? So he read one popular novel, how does that make him some genius? What a tool. Of course he’d think she was probably some airhead who’d be easily impressed by that crap.”_

But there was a silver lining; Mel seemed to be under the impression that someone who had a deeper personality, someone who was intelligent and educated and astute wouldn’t think she was at their level. How many times had Mel stated how smart he was, how far he could go in his education?

_“That’s why she’s so hesitant. She thinks she’s not good enough for me or I wouldn’t be interested because she doesn’t read much or she didn’t finish school herself. Goddammit Mel...”_

J. D. wanted to laugh; sure, insightful conversation was more than welcome, but Mel was smart in her own right. And she was perceptive. He was certain there were several works in his own collection she’d be interested in if she gave them a chance. But this old creep sounded like he just wanted to flaunt his fancy college degree and high paying job in her face.

When they were together, he’d make sure she stopped that way of thinking.

He never really thought of the first time as that big of a deal, but this would be his chance to show her how beautiful he thought she was. He couldn’t wait to see the expression on her face the first time he’d-

“Do you think that’s odd?”

“I wouldn’t say odd.” J. D. told her as she sat down on the couch and unfolded her blanket. “Unless you’re worried you’ll get a bad back from sleeping on the sofa.”

Mel sent him a look. “Not the issue. I mean...well, ya know. The whole inexperience thing...at my age.” she rested her cheek in her hand and chuckled. “People think I’m waiting for marriage or some crap, but it’s not it. I just haven’t met anyone I want to do it with. And for a long time, dating wasn’t really on the brain.”

“It’s none of my business or anyone else’s.”

Mel clicked off the lamp and settled back on the couch; a bit of her hair was spilling over the side of the pillow a few inches above his hand.

“Jason, have you made any friends at school?”

“Nah.”

“Oh.”

“We’re friends.”

“Yeah, but don’t you want to hang out with people your own age? Or go out and find a girlfriend?”

“It’s slim pickings at good ol’ Westerberg to be honest. I’m holding out for a dame I can talk to for five minutes without wanting to blow my brains out.”

J. D. said as he scooted his hand over to let it be tickled by the tips of her hair.

Mel yawned. “Come on, you’re pretty cute for someone who was born from a creepy looking guy like your old man. I’m sure there’s plenty of nice girls who’d like you.”

“There’s this girl who tries to talk to me sometimes.”

“Oh?” J. D. could hear the playful suggestion in Mel’s voice. “Is she cute?”

“Sure.” he said. “She’s a smart cookie. I can tell she’s dying to leave there too. But so is everyone else.”

“She sounds nice. Why not ask her out? Isn’t homecoming soon?” Mel frowned. “That’s in October right? Or September?”

“Didn’t you go to yours?”

“Nah. I wasn’t blowing money to see people I didn’t give a crap about.”

“Wise decision.”

“More like cheap. But, there you have it.” Mel said. “So, how about you? You never know, this girl could be someone really special. At the least, you might gain a friend.”

“She’s not my type.”

“Ugh. You guys and your types. I can’t tell you how many guys I’ve known said they were only into a girl who looked like this or looked like that, but they’ll still fuck any girl who’ll say yes.”

“I hope you don’t think I’m under that category. I’m serious when I say she’s not the type of person I’m into.”

“I’d help you, but I don’t know any girls your age.”

“I want someone who’s mature.”

“Well, you can’t go by age.” Mel said knowingly. “I can’t tell you how many of the women who come into Sheila’s act like they’re still teenagers.”

J. D. brushed his fingertips against the strands falling; he could only just make them out in the dark. “Not all teenagers are immature.”

“True.” Mel conceded. “I wonder if Davis would care I’ve never done anything before. He’s a grown man, he shouldn’t make a big deal out of it.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“I know.”

J. D.’s hand flew back to his side so fast he almost broke his wrist; Mel was now leaning over the edge of the couch, a sweet smile stretching over her flushed cheeks. He could smell champagne on her breath; her hand went to pat his cheek briefly and then she was laying back on the cushions.

“You’re a good person Jason. I could tell right away. I hope you meet someone just as nice; maybe not in your school, but somewhere.”

“Yeah.”  
“Say it more confidently. Come on, say it.”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Mel chuckled and closed her eyes. “Night, love you kid.”

“Night Mel.”

As J. D. listened to her breathing grow softer and slower until she eventually began letting out whistles of snores, he felt his blood pump faster and faster through his own veins.

He hated her.

In that one instance, he hated her so much.

_“How could you do this to me Mel? Huh? Goddamn woman, you’re killin’ me here…”_

How could she say the things she said and touch him so briefly and then leave him wanting?

Was she doing it on purpose? Was she intentionally ignoring all his hints? Or was she really dumb?

“Hey Mel?”

No reply; J. D. slowly rose from the floor until he was sitting straight up.

“Mel?” he repeated until his voice was at a normal level, but she didn’t stir or even twitch in her sleep. J. D. wondered if all people were heavy sleepers when drunk.

“Mel?” his shaking fingers went to her cheek; they were burning from the alcohol. Or were his fingers burning? She looked so impassive, so disconnected from the world at that moment.

He wanted to see the expression she’d make when he pinned her down on the couch; it wouldn’t be hard, she was only wearing a nightgown, no hassling with zippers or buttons. J. D. held his breath for a few minutes as he wrestled with his own mind.

Heather was in the next room, but she was out cold too. Would she hear it if Mel screamed? Maybe she wouldn’t even wake up or she’d think it was all a dream.

 _“No. You know it’s wrong, just shut the fuck up. You sick piece of shit, she’s a fucking virgin.”_ J. D. pulled back and made himself lie flat on the floor and dug his nails into his palms. _“Not like this. Son of a bitch, I’m sorry Mel.”_ he fought to not smash the back of his head against the hardwood floor to get rid of his thoughts.

_“Why? Do I want it that badly? Not really that badly. I don’t want to hurt you Mel, I don’t want to control you...I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”_

He wanted to hold hands. He thought of them going on a date to the gun range, eating ice cream, driving her home from work, imagined nights where they’d share the same bed and Mel would listen to her music while he tinkered away at his projects. Some nights they’d just lie next to each other and talk. Or maybe they’d say nothing at all; maybe he’d just hold her and she’d hold him and they’d fit together so well, they’d wonder how in the world they ever were apart.

 _“Slow the fuck down.”_ J. D. thought to himself as he went to the bathroom; he’d handle his little problem and go back to bed and it would be fine. He was just overwhelmed, a bit wired from his planning earlier.

It was that Davis’ fault; J. D. was feeling the pressure bearing down on him like a ton of bricks. What if he got to her before him? What if he ran out of time? And what about Heather? That was one thorn in his side he still needed to get rid of.

He was nothing like her. All she did was take and take and take and didn’t give a damn about who she had to step on to get what she wanted. She took advantage of people’s fear and vulnerability and their desire to not be the outsider.

Mel wasn’t a tool to use to make himself feel less shitty about the kind of person he was. She made him stronger and once she let him in, he could do that much more for her. He’d give her happiness and pleasure and everything else she needed from him.

“Every time we fuck I’ll give you a part of my soul. How’s that for poetry babe?”

J. D. chuckled as he received no answer; after a moment, he knelt down by Mel’s head and pulled the covers up to her chin. With a wide grin, he pushed back her hair from her forehead and patted her cheek as gentle as she did just minutes before. He didn’t stop smiling until the morning came and Mel went into her room to check on Heather.

“J. D. get her some water, she’s hung over really bad.” Mel asked him apologetically. “I’ve gotta go toss the sheets in the wash…”

J. D. did so without so much as a dry remark; he whistled a tune as he worked mixing in the Hull Cleaner and a touch of milk and a spritz of tomato juice to hide any odd scents.

“Oh look, it’s the crypt keeper.” Heather drawled as she rubbed her crusty eyes.

Mel sighed and took the mug from J. D.; she glanced down and frowned. “What’s this?”

“My dad has me fix him hangover cures on rough nights. Trust me, this’ll counter at least the majority of the effects.”

“Huh. Well thanks Jason, that’s very considerate of you.” Mel smiled up at him as she sat down next to Heather; she put down the brush she had been using to undo her tangles. “Here, this’ll help. Afterward I’ll make us all some breakfast.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Heather shot a nasty look at J. D. as if he were some bug that had wandered in to pester her.

“Heather, don’t be like that.” Mel said soberly. “Honestly, can’t you at least try to be nice?”

J. D. shrugged his shoulders with a flippant smile. “If she can’t handle it-”

“Oh, like you wouldn’t hock a loogie in the damn thing.”

“My god, can you two-here,”

J. D. felt his blood run cold. Mel took a drink and swallowed with a grimace.

“Yuck, tomato juice.” Mel smiled. “See Heather, it’s-”

Heather jumped out of the bed as Mel fell out of it; her screech of horror went through one ear and out the other as J. D. ran to Mel.

“Oh my god…”

The mug crashing to the ground and spilling it’s contents all over the floor. She was kneeling and gasping like she was going to throw up.

“You freak!” Heather was curled up and grabbing her hair in piles. “Oh my fucking god, you tried to kill me!”

“It was a prank!” J. D. was holding Mel by the shoulders, trying to look into her eyes as she hacked and wheezed. “Call the hospital, now.”

“You lying bastard, what the fuck was in there?!”

“CALL THE **FUCKING** HOSPITAL!”

Tears were streaming down Mel’s face and spit was trailing down the side of her lips as she grabbed onto the sleeve of J. D.’s jacket.  
“Mel?! I’m sorry, this wasn’t supposed to happen, it’ll be okay, just breathe-”

Heather ran out of the room, sending J. D. a tearful glare, silently promising this wasn’t over. He heard her shrill voice from the living room as she spoke to the paramedics.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, everything will be okay Mel, I didn’t mean to,” J. D. chuckled weakly, trying to keep the shakiness from his voice. “You gotta believe me, it was an accident. God, I’d never hurt you.”

Mel shoved him away and ducked over to grab at the tiny trash can; she ended up knocking it sideways and vomiting out the contents of her now possibly scarred stomach.

J. D. shut his eyes tight and tried to just focus on rubbing her hair as she struggled to stay alive. It was ruined. Everything was ruined.

And it was all his fault.

_“No, it’s their fault. And that fucking bitch, she never was supposed to be here! I’ll fucking get her if it’s the last thing I do.”_

“They’ll be here in five minutes. Is she breathing?” Heather was rushing back into the room, dropping to her knees with a glass of water in her hand. “Mel-”

“DON’T!”

“What the fuck is your-?!”

“Don’t touch her!”

Heather flinched violently as J. D. grabbed the cup and gave it to Mel carefully.

“Drink this Mel...come on, just try...there you go, keep drinking, I’ll get you more...”

Heather stared at them in sick fascination as J. D.’s ferocious glare turned to tender concern; she could faintly hear the sirens coming closer and closer to the house.

“You really are cracked…”


	18. Bizarre Love Triangle

**Author's Note: Yes, the chapter is the title of an actual song from the 80's. Enjoy!**

Mel had been in the hospital only once before.

“Where were you?”

“I was on the sidewalk.” she didn’t look up from her lap as the police officer loomed over her; she knew he wasn’t speaking in an accusatory way in the slightest. If anything, Mel knew her parents were already getting it in their heads that she was partially the reason for them being there that day.

“Did you see the car coming?”

“No. I was looking down the other side of the street.”

“What did you see?”

“I didn’t see it at first. I heard it...the tires screeching.” Mel spoke without much inflection. For some reason the tears were pouring when she went to her brother’s side, but then they stopped as soon as the paramedics dragged her from his body.

 _“That’s was all he is now. A body.”_ Mel thought as the cop continued to write notes; all she could see was a lump covered in white sheets being rolled into the back of the ambulance. Standing up, the corpse would barely come to her waist.

“Tell me more if you can.”

“I looked back to the street where he was riding. His headphones were knocked off and he was laying a bit away from the car. His arm was almost off I think. I remember a lot of blood coming from that spot.”

“The spot where his shoulder connected to his torso?”

“Yes.”

“Then what did you do Miss?”

“I held his hand. I think he was already passed out.”

Mel had already been told by the doctor an hour earlier that Jason had stopped holding on. Her parents wouldn’t allow her in to see the body and she was strangely okay with this. She had seen enough. The headphones still felt warm in her hand, but she knew it was from her own tightfisted grip.

“Did you attempt to move your brother at any time?”

“No.”

The officer sighed softly. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

Mel nodded and kept her eyes down as she felt a strong hand squeeze her shoulder gently.

“I’m sorry. You can go back inside with your parents now.” he was already putting away his notes and getting ready to go back into the squad car. He felt it was unnecessary to bring a young lady into the station for minor detail questioning.

“I think I might stay out here for a bit longer.” Mel didn’t bother to say her parents had told her before that she was free to go home once she was done speaking with him. They seemed irritated at her presence. It never crossed her mind to grieve with them.

“Do you need a lift anywhere?”

“I think I’d like to walk...clear my head. Thank you though sir.”

“Thank you for your time. Be careful Miss.”

Mel almost wanted to stop and ask if she could take the walkman that had been attached to Jason’s pants, but then she remembered it had been run over and crushed.

After that day, she never set foot in a hospital again; she did spend quite some time in the cemetery. She never did understand why people avoided them unless to visit graves. Mel thought they were like parks, except there were always flower and they were much quieter. If anything, hospitals were more depressing; dying seemed a lot more awful than being dead.

So, she was somewhat surprised to find herself lying half awake in a clean hospital bed as a nurse leaned over to prop her head up on a stiff pillow. Mel wondered if her brother felt any of the same sensations as he laid in a similar kind of bed, but then she remembered he had indeed been knocked unconscious. She liked to think he was dreaming of something nice before he died.

“Miss, are you awake?”

“Y-yeah…” Mel winced; her throat felt like it had been rubbed with sandpaper on the inside and punched on the outside. “What...happened…?”

“You had to have your stomach pumped. Don’t worry, there was no lasting damage, no scarred tissue even.” the nurse said serenely. “In fact, you were very lucky to have only drank a little sip of that stuff.”

Mel managed a smile but it soon fell as she felt a stab of panic. “Where’s J-Jason?”

“Who sweetie?”

“The boy...pulled the prank...he didn’t mean to-”

“I’m sorry, only relatives are allowed to visit now. You did have a young man and a girl ask to see you, but then the cops and these other two came to talk with them.” the nurse had a look that said she was trying to recall something. “The doctor didn’t have time to tell me details, but I saw them. The man was a bit out of shape, dark grey hair, the lady was blonde and wearing a pink uniform...ring any bells?”

“I w-work for them...can I see them?”

“In a bit I suspect. We need to just make sure you won’t need anything else for treatment. If all checks out, you can be out of here tomorrow.”

Mel sighed. “Thank you.”

Meanwhile chaos had broken loose downstairs in the waiting room; Gary was being held back by two cops as J. D. was doubled over on the tiled floor and was making no move to get up.

“Gary, what in sam hill is the matter with you?!” Sheila made to hold him back herself, but one of the officers pulled her gently to the side.

“You little shit. Is this how you repay her? Is this how you thank someone who helped your sorry ass?!”

“Sir, you need to calm down or we’ll be forced to take you into custody!”

Heather stood on the side, eyes wide and hand brought to her face. She had not been ready for anything like this to happen.

“Gary, sweetie, please.” Sheila begged him through her tears. “For god’s sake, think of Mel! We’re in a hospital have some goddamn self control.”

Gary was still shaking but he lowered his fists; one of them was smudged with J. D.’s blood.

“I don’t want you going near her. You could have killed someone with that ‘prank’. Did you even think about how powerful those chemicals are? Huh?!”

“I never meant for this to happen…” J. D. stayed on the ground; a drop of blood fell from his lips to his chin.

“Yeah, a shit ton of good that is now.” Gary looked at the officers. “I want to see my girl.”

“Can we?” Sheila came over and put a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “Please, can’t we at least go up to the floor she’s on?”

“That’ll be fine, but it’s the doctor’s decision to let you come inside the operation room.” the officer told her calmly; he sent Gary a impassive look. “Please see your husband doesn’t make another scene or we’ll have to book him for disturbing the peace. We could already charge him for assault of a minor.”

“I don’t want to press charges.” J. D. was up; he didn’t bother to wipe his face. “I apologize to you both. This...was the last thing I ever wanted.”

Sheila felt her glare soften at his glistening eyes. “We can deal with this all later. I just want to know if my baby’s okay.”

“We understand you’re all concerned, but understand we need to keep order. I trust any issues here can be dealt with at another time with civility.”

Heather and Jason had already been questioned together; the cops didn’t seem to care much for interviewing protocol. Heather’s statement almost made J. D. come out of his trance; and then Gary and Sheila had come sweeping in through the hospital doors and J. D. felt a fist as hard as a frozen ham colliding with his mouth. He knew he deserved that and a few hundred more; he was mildly shocked at the couple’s behavior. If he didn’t already know the story, he would have assumed Mel was their flesh and blood daughter.

Sheila led Gary away to the elevator and the cops were taking their leave, deciding that since no one was pressing charges of any kind, there was no need to stick around. Just a dumb prank gone badly wrong, luckily without any lasting damage. All in all, it was a good day in Sherwood.

“Clean yourself off. You’re scaring people.” Heather shoved a tissue in his hand; people in the waiting room were in fact staring openly. “I need you to come outside with me.”

“I’m not leaving until I hear if Mel is okay.”

“We know she’s okay. She got out of surgery; they’ll have her rest for a long time.”

“How do you know?”

“I knew this college idiot who overdosed on a shit ton of baby aspirin thinking he could get a wicked buzz.” Heather spoke lowly. “We can’t talk here. Let’s go out to the smoking area.”

Fortunately for them, there was no other anxious visitors in the small corner outside by a garden of dying daffodils. J. D. took his pack out with shaky fingers; Heather grabbed it from his grasp and took one for herself, striking a match from her purse and moaning in relief as soon as the smoke touched her lips.

“You’re welcome.”

“Save it James Dean.”

“Original.”

“We both know what happened this morning.” Heather took a long drag; she looked awful. “That was a pretty dumb stunt you pulled. I knew some people would kill to have me dead so they could take my place, but I didn’t think a freak like you would feel threatened enough to try it.”

“You told the cops a different story.” J. D. licked his busted lip and used his half full lighter to set his own cigarette ablaze.

“And if I cry a bit and say I felt too scared to tell the truth in front of you, they’ll believe the real story in a heartbeat. You are the sicko who thought it’d be funny to induce vomiting with rust begone.”

J. D. smirked hollowly. “What do you want Heather?”

“Excuse me? Miss Chandler?”

Heather stubbed out her finished cigarette on the ground; a receptionist had her body halfway out the glass door.

“Yes?”

“There’s a visitor here that wanted to see the patient you two are waiting to see. He says he knows you.” the woman adjusted her thick glasses with some timidity at Heather’s cold gaze. “A Mr. Howard?”

“Yeah, I know him.” Heather opened the door all the way and swept past the startled woman; J. D. followed her lead and cracked the knuckles on his right hand before tossing his cigarette in the trash. The spark flew back in him and he had to keep from glaring outright at the unimposing bespectacled man in a neat coal black suit. He had a bouquet of white lilies and a nervous half smile as Heather came over to greet him.

“Thank you so much Mr. Howard-oh you didn’t have to bring flowers!” Heather was smiling like a gracious beauty queen on a runway. “They’re lovely!”

“I wanted to come sooner when I got your message, but the meeting ran long.” Davis said apologetically as he fiddled with the knot of his tie. “Have you been able to see her yet?”

“Yes, they had to pump her stomach and her throat is burnt, but it’s nothing rest and a careful diet regimen won’t help. I wasn’t sure at first if I should call, but she said she had promised to call you soon and I figured maybe you’d get the wrong idea if you didn’t hear from her…”

“Oh, that’s hardly anything to worry about. Not when something this serious...god, will she be okay? Just yesterday we were talking and then this...how-?”

“It was an accident. I wouldn’t feel right telling you all the details. I still feel a bit faint from all the craziness.”

“Of course. You must have been so worried; you’re a good friend to stay here all this time. Oh pardon me.” Davis reached out his hand to J. D. who hadn’t made to say a word. “Are you also a friend of Melanie’s?”

“Something like that.” J. D. smiled thinly and didn’t move to shake Davis’ outstretched hand. “Would you two like me to go outside while you chat, talk about stocks, your last brunch mimosas?”

“He’s always full of quips.” Heather sent J. D. a brief glare over her shoulder but he was already striding away out the door. She put back on a polite smile for Davis.

“It’s fine, really. I’m sure he’s having a rough time too.” Davis said as he glanced down at his flowers somberly. “Is she really okay?”

“Yes. Would you like to stay with us and wait Mr. Howard? I was going back to smoke and get some fresh air.”

“Oh no, I don’t smoke.” Davis shook his head. “I don’t have time to stay, but would you mind giving these to Melanie when you see her? I want her to know I’m thinking of her and whenever it’s convenient, I’d like to see her too. If there’s anything else I can do to help…?”

“No, no, this is so kind of you already.” Heather smiled as she took the flowers. “I’ll be sure to relay the message.”

“How the hell can you get fresh air with one of these in your mouth?” J. D. exhaled and put a hand to his head; his eyes went to the flowers. Heather had placed them on a bench as she searched for another match. “Those look flammable.”

“He’ll know if we don’t give them to her. That’s your problem. You’ve always got your nose stuck in some pretentious book, but you have shit for brains. If you were smart, you would have found a better way to off me.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“I’ve heard it already.” Heather cut him off with a sharp glance. “But like I said, if I wanted to, I could bust your ass here and now.”

“So why don’t you?”

“I don’t like doing dirty work.”

J. D. scoffed. “What, you’re going to blackmail me into being your servant? Blow me.”

“Like you could get it up for anyone else. Does Mel know about your fucked up crush?" Heather’s voice was like ice. “God, I can only imagine the sick shit you’ve done when you’re there alone. You’d probably be better locked up.”

“Is there a point to this? Or can I just cut my losses and tell you to fuck off now?”

“You’re going to help me. In return, I won’t let it slip you meant to poison me, not even to Heather, Heather, or anyone at school. No one will know what a psycho you really are. No one else but us knows what really happened.”

“What do you want? Spit it out. I want to see Mel.”

“If you’re smart and do what I say, we’ll both get what we want.”

J. D. quirked an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? And, uh, just what would the result of this deal be?”

Heather slowly let her eyes roam around her casually as if she was only taking in the sights and not making sure no one was there to hear a word.

“I have the connections. And you know how to get the job done. I want that yuppie out of the picture. I don’t think you’re stupid enough to have to be told why.”

“You’re hiring me as, what, a hitman or something?” J. D. chuckled humorlessly. “Yeah and I take the heat afterward.”

“No, because I know you’ll see me out too. All I want is to get Davis out of my way. I never liked him much anyway. But I don’t know how to do it.” Heather puffed and smiled in satisfaction. “I can lure him in. We can’t just do it anywhere. Make up a story, he does business with my dad and my uncle. I set it up-”

“And I come in for the kill?”

“Can you manage to do it and keep your mouth shut afterward?”

“You know, I figured you were a ruthless bitch, but I didn’t think you had this in you. Hell, if I didn’t think you were the most disgusting snake I’d ever meet, I might be impressed.”

“Like you have any right to say shit. I would have died before hitting the ground with that shit you made. That shit can burn a hole in someone’s throat.” Heather’s smirk turned into a glower so hateful, J. D. almost couldn’t believe she could look that serious without looking haughty. If anything, she looked more strained, like a caged animal. “If you messed up Mel bad, the deal’s off. I’ll call the cops so fast your head will spin and you wonder why you ever had the idea to fuck with me.”

Heather tossed the stub and ground it underneath her foot. “I have plans with some people from school soon. If I don’t show up, it’ll look suspicious. I’ll call Mel’s place tomorrow and if you’re there after school, we can talk details.”

“I was planning on it.” J. D. said. “Any suggestions for the method?”

“Whatever does the job, obviously. And make sure she gets these ugly things.” Heather nodded to the flowers. “We can’t raise any red flags or make anyone think we have something against him.”

“Aye aye.”

J. D. waited another fifteen minutes to go back inside once Heather was gone; he already knew the gist of what he would be doing.

“ _Kill the asshole and then find a way to off her without anyone suspecting. Simple enough.”_

J. D. carried the flowers as he descended the elevator. The receptionist said Mel had given him permission to visit; Gary and Sheila must have left, because he didn’t run into them. But any semblance of confidence he felt vanished as soon as he entered the resting room and saw Mel lying there and hooked up to an IV.

“He-ey Jason.”

J. D. stared dully at the tubes going out of her nose and back into a machine so she could get oxygen.

“Sorry if I’m loopy. The-they have me on pain meds. It’s, um, hard to talk a bit.” Mel cleared her throat and visibly winced. “Aw geez.”

“Heather called that Howard guy. He asked us to give you these and to call him when you’re up to it.” J. D. handed her the lilies; his chest constricted at her awed smile as her fingers gently caressed the petals. “Heather had to leave too, but she said she’d call Monday to ask how you’re doing.”

“I don’t think they’ll let me out until tomorrow morning.” Mel told him weakly as she set the flowers by her pitcher of water and a Dixie cup. “...are you okay?”

J. D. ran a hand roughly through his hair with a disbelieving grin. “You almost die and you ask me that? God Mel, you’re making me feel like shit here.”

She didn’t say anything as he dropped down on the bed beside her.

“Cops asked questions. They knew it was an accident.”

“...that was dangerous. And even i-if you just meant to make her sick, it was cruel.”

“I’ll be honest Mel; you probably know this already, but I couldn’t care less if Heather took your place. Do I want her dead? No. But if I could make it so she’s the one with a fucked up voice and a scar on their stomach, I would.”

“They didn’t have to-to cut me open like some pig. I need to let my burns heal in my throat. I’ll be just fine.” Mel told him slowly. “I-it’s not your fault.”

“Mel, just stop.”

“It’s not your fault.”

J. D. blinked rapidly and wished that instead of spending most of his time smoking and waiting and hating himself, he had thought to buy her flowers. As if roses from the gift shop would make anything better.

“I wish you hadn’t done it. You s-s-see what happens when you mess with stuff like that?”

Mel wheezed and reached for her empty cup; J. D. took it and filled it back up with the water in the plastic yellow pitcher. It was the color of piss. She drank the water and he refilled it, mostly because he was at a loss for anything else to do.

“I haven’t b-been in a hospital since my brother died.” Mel looked around with an almost wistful smile. “What a way to end the weekend.”

“I went to one when the firemen found my mom under a ton of concrete and brick. She was crushed to death; the funeral was not open casket.”

Mel felt her stomach churn as J. D. stared off into nothing.

“I never figured I’d be the kind of person to put someone I love in the hospital.” J. D. chuckle and finally looked into her eyes. “Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, huh?”

“Jason, it was an accident.”

“They said that about her too. I guess this time it really is. Nah, it’s worse. It was a mistake. And of course, someone decent like you pays for it.”

“Come here.” Mel told him; her arms were open slightly.

He swore he’d never forgive himself. He swore he wouldn’t allow himself her affection until he made it up.

Mel cradled him in her arms; he leaned down too far and found his head resting just above the swell of her chest, cheek tickled by the paper thin slip. She smelled like primroses and antiseptic. J. D. realized the only thing keeping him from breaking was the arms holding him together and the fact that if he began bawling she would most certainly see him as a child and therefore not close to mature enough to be with.

“I’m sorry...I mean it, I’d never hurt you-”

“Sh, sh, it’s okay....everything is going to be okay...”

“I know…”

J. D. could do it; he’d suck up his pride and meet with Heather Chandler and then when the time was right: kaboom. And in the process, he’d be killing two birds with one stone.

“I’m okay Jason. I’m right here. I won’t leave you alone.” Mel said through her soft wheezes; J. D. could heard how hard it was for her to speak from where his ear was pressing. And yet, she was doing so anyway and to comfort him.

“We’ll be okay.”

“I know…”


	19. Please Say You'll Stick Around

“W-was threatening to crush your wife’s head okay in the 1800’s?”

“Well, not exactly. Though I imagine violence against women deemed as disrespectful was much more acceptable; but this is supposed to be showing how over the edge this guy is becoming due to jealousy piling up over the years.” Davis explained as Mel stared in abject horror as the leading man picked his leading lady up and carried her up the stairs.

“What the hell was that?”

“What?”

The scene cut to Scarlett waking up happily the next morning; Mel’s jaw dropped.

“Wait, was she just raped or what?”

“At the time marital rape wasn’t really counted. It doesn’t help that Scarlett fights Rhett at every counter and would rather die than admit her feelings. But yes, basically.”

“Jesus.” Mel ran her fingers through her matted hair. “W-why don’t they just say they love each other?”

“To keep the plot going.” Davis grinned at Mel’s half hearted glare from her hospital bed. “They’re both too prideful. Scarlett won’t even admit Melanie’s become her best friend until it’s too late.”

“Maybe because she’s kind of an idiot.” Mel said; Davis laughed out loud, muffling it quickly when a nurse poked her head in with a suspicious look.

“I’d say too trusting. But then keep in mind, until the hugging incident, Melanie had no reason to think Scarlett would ever want to steal Ashley away from her. Not to mention Scarlett did save her and her baby.”

“Did this movie lay the foundation for every soap opera ever?”

Davis chuckled subduedly. “Melanie, it sounds like you don’t care for one of my favorite characters.”

“I mean, she’s the only r-really honorable person in this whole movie, but it’s kind of hard to watch.” Mel confessed through a sort of croak. “Don’t g-get me wrong, this is pretty good for an oldie. That Clark guy’s pretty hot. When he’s not threatening to smack her a good one.”

“Yeah…” Davis scratched the back of his head. “Do you need more water?”

“N-no, thanks.” Mel smiled. “You really don’t have to do anything. The aid w-will bring me stuff if I need it.”

“I know.” Davis took of his glasses to clean them even though Mel couldn’t see a single smudge. “So, is this doing alright for a first date? I know a movie is pretty cliche, but-”

“This is the most fun I’ve had since I-I got here.” Mel told him as she squeezed his hand back. “You know, I wonder if my parents saw this movie...they didn’t seem to be sentimental enough to name me after a character in an epic romance.”

“Why don’t you ask them?”

“We haven’t talked since I was sixteen. Besides, my mom passed away.”

“Oh. I’m very sorry.”

“Trust me, it was for the best.” Mel smiled gently and put her hand over his shoulder. “They didn’t care much either, and they’d never think to name me after somebody so nice.”

Davis frowned and took her hand in his; for a few moments they were silent as they watched the protagonist faint over her daughter’s demise. “Why is this hard for you to watch?”

“Because Melanie went her whole life not knowing everyone around her was...well, look at them. Her husband was emotionally unfaithful, her best friend was pining over her husband for years and had planned to take him away-”

“But he chose her in the end; he did love her.” Davis pointed out. “And Scarlett did end up becoming her friend and cherishing her. Even Rhett thinks highly of her; in fact, most everyone in the story loves her.”

“The only reason she hasn’t gotten herself into more trouble is because everyone likes her. Not because she’s strong or smart or resourceful like Scarlett.”

“She’s strong emotionally.” Davis reminded her. “Besides, back then it was important for a woman to be proper and honorable in all circumstances. She’s a lady through and through and by the end of it all, she never loses her integrity.”

Mel was stumped. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Isn’t that worth something, to be able to stand by your own ideals?” Davis asked with a sigh as the movie continued. “It’s hard to be yourself when everyone seems to be pushing you to do the exact opposite.”

Mel ganced at him cautiously. “Do….you feel that way sometimes?”

Davis smiled sheepishly. “I suppose. Everyone I know has told me to stick to bookkeeping. It brings in money, it’s a respectable profession, and I’m good at it.” his smile turned sardonic. “Too good actually.”

“I bet you’re a good writer too.”

“Maybe. There’s thousands of people out there who want to get their work published; they’ll even go without trying to support their dream. I already have a successful job. What more could I possibly want?”

Mel frowned. “B-but do you even like your job?”

“It’s fine. It pays the bills.”

“I get that.” Mel said as she massaged her throat lightly. “I love working for Gary and Sheila. I never really wanted to do anything else.”

“Did you never want to go to school?”

“Nah. There’s nothing I want to study. Besides, I’m not smart.”

“You’re not stupid.”

“Maybe.” Mel smiled a little and cleared her throat. “I-I’m definitely not smart enough for college. Anyway, I like what I’m doing.”

“Maybe I can come by when you’re on shift sometime.” Davis said nonchalantly as he could, but Mel could clearly see the flush on the back of his neck. “If that’s okay. I don’t want to push things.”

“No, I’d love that!-ow.” Mel ducked and coughed roughly; Davis stopped the tape and went to her to pat her back. “I’m okay, still hurts, but I’m okay.”

The doctor was in the midst of obtaining Mel’s written prescription before discharging her; in the meantime, Davis and her had lost track of the late hours altogether as they watched the videotape. The doctor had allowed him to bring it to play in the VCR; they spent three hours conversing as they stared at the small screen, yet it seemed like no time at all. Mel couldn’t remember the last time she had so much fun doing something like watching an old movie in less than comfortable conditions.

“Davis, thank you again.”

“Well, I couldn’t very well let you walk home.”

Mel sat back in the seat of Davis’s convertible and frowned. “Why do you talk like that? You sound like one of the men out of that movie.”

“My parents were from old money in Alabama actually. They were stuffy to put it bluntly.” Davis laughed as he turned a corner slowly. “Everyone in my family talks that way. You’d go crazy if you heard us all talking in a room.”

“I like it actually.” Mel looked out the window and chose her words carefully. “Davis...I like you too. Christ, you’re the first bonafide gentleman I-I ever met. And you’re...well, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you….I h-hope you know it means a lot...how kind you’ve been…”

She prayed her stutter sounded like it was the result of her scratchy, weakened vocal cords.

“Melanie, you’re a little naive, aren’t you?”

Mel felt her cheeks flare up red. “A damn nice thing to say after I-” she bit her lips and crossed her arms. “Whatever.”

“No, I didn’t mean to offend you!” Davis said quickly. “It’s just, we only met a couple days ago, and it sounds like you think I’m a pretty good guy.”

“And why n-not? You haven’t done a thing to make me think you’re an ass.” Mel said defensively. “Just because I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt, doesn’t mean I’m some fucking idiot.”

“I never said that-”

“Just keep your eyes on the road. For someone so well read, you should know how to pick your words better.”

“Melanie, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it like that.” Davis glanced over at her sullen face. “I just mean...you should be more careful. I’d hate to see you get hurt.”

“I can t-take care of myself. If I get hurt, I get hurt. I won’t pretend.”

“I’m not saying to be dishonest. I’m saying there’s a lot of people who are, a lot of them are men who’d want to use that to their advantage.”

Mel frowned deeply and stared right at his profile. “I’m getting a bit sick of people treating m-me like I’m the child. I’ve already got two teenagers scolding me and now you; well, I guess you’re at least older…”

“It doesn’t matter how old you are. Whether you’re young, old, white, black, man or a woman, there’s a certain type of person who will swoop in when they see an opening.” Davis’s voice turned grave; it made Mel’s indignant mood turn a bit cautious.

“Well now you’re just trying to freak me out. What, are you saying you’re one of those people?”

Davis shook his head with a little half smile as Mel pointed to her street. “Not at all. I’m saying if possible…”

“What?”

“I’d like to protect you from those kinds of people.”

Mel felt her retort fall flat in her head; she found herself staring down at her hands in her lap. For that moment, she really did feel like a child again, lost and nervous and like her heart was about to explode out of her chest.

“If that’s okay with you, anyway. If you’re really the kind of person who’s as nice as she seems, I’d like to be the kind of person who makes sure no one spoils it. We need more people like you. We need more people who think decently.”

Mel shrugged. “I...I can look after myself...but if you’re willing to stick close by, I don’t see why not.”

Davis pulled into her driveway. “Is that yours?”

Mel looked up; J. D.’s motorbike was pulled into the pavement and parked by the garage door.

“Oh, it’s Jason’s.”

“Is he the kid who messed up the prank? The one with the trench coat?”

“I’ve got to talk to him.” Mel sighed. “W-what the hell was going on through that boy’s mind, I’ll never know.”

“You know, he struck me as a bit...intense. I thought he was your brother, he seemed almost suspicious of me.” Davis chuckled. “But I understand why he’d be so protective. Speaking of, how are you feeling now?”

“Okay. I’ve just got to rest. Gary and S-Sheila gave me paid time off.” Mel grinned warmly; they had wanted to drive her home, but their schedules weren’t quite as flexible these days. “And thanks again…”

“I’ll call you sometime tomorrow. If I get free time, I’d like to take you out for a real date. You know, where people aren’t checking your vitals every hour.”

“Sure. M-maybe spending time with you will make me smarter.” Mel said teasingly.

Davis wasn’t quite smiling anymore; he remained still in his seat, but his eyes were searching her face, faintly inquiring for something she didn’t quite understand. Mel immediately felt her already parched and sore throat tighten; she wished she had bothered to clean up a little at the hospital.

“Melanie...okay, I’m just going to ask you straight.”

“Yes.”

Davis frowned. “You don’t mind if we go to dinner a bit early tomorrow?”

“No. I mean yes, I meant-” Mel felt her face go red. “I thought you were going to…”

“To…?”

Mel averted her eyes and opened the car door. “Oh it was nothing. I better get going.”

“Melanie?”

Davis put his fingers to her shoulder and leaned forward; he pressed his lips to hers for a second long peck.

“Gotcha.”

“Oh my god, you’re a-awful!” Mel was caught between a laugh and a glare as she smacked his retracting arm. “Goodnight you nerd.”

“Goodnight. Get plenty of sleep.”

Mel let out a long hushed breath a she waved Davis goodbye from her porch; she couldn’t wait to take a real shower, put on clean pajamas and drop into her bed for a good twelve hours or so.

_“I’ll have to buy all liquids for a while...lord, how many types of soup are there? Oh dammit...I’ll have to eat it cold too. Yuck.”_

She had her key ready to open the door, but found there wasn’t any need. It was unlocked.

“Jason?” Mel called out softly as she tried not to strain her vocal cords; she locked the door closed behind her and went into the kitchen. She could smell gas. “Jason?”

“Welcome home Mel.” J. D. was at the stove and stirring something in a pot. “Don’t worry, stews lukewarm. I’ve been making sure.”

Mel sniffed the air and grimaced; her eyes traveled to the high shelf where she kept her whiskey. The bottle was gone.

“Have you been drinking?”

J. D. turned back to stare at her with slightly red eyes; Mel was relieved to see the flame on the stove was turned on low. He seemed to be in a trance.

“Yep. Sorry, I’ll pay you back.”

Mel gaped. “How much have you had? Did you drink it straight?!”

“Mel, I’ve been drunk before. I like Irish whiskey myself, but…” he shrugged and flipped off the dial to turn off the fire. “Okay, soup’s on. It’s not much but it’s better than hospital food, right?”

“W-why was the door unlocked?”

“Sorry, I forgot.”

“Y-you’re drunk, cooking, and forgot to lock the door to my house.” Mel said lowly. “God, what’s the matter with you?! F-first you pull that crazy prank-how could you?”

“It was just supposed to make Heather puke her guts out.” J. D. turned to her and poked her neck. “I’d never hurt you Mel, not unless I had no choice. Even then, I’d rather die.”

Mel closed her open mouth and backed away. “That’s not enough. Y-you shouldn’t do something like that, even if you didn’t mean to seriously hurt someone.”

“Mel, I told you already how I see it and I’m not in the mood to say it again.” J. D. said easily. “The only reason I feel bad is because you got hurt instead.”

“....then I guess there’s no point talking to you about this.” Mel looked at him with utter disgust before she turned and walked away. “I’m not hungry. I’m going to take a shower.”

“Mel, don’t be mad, huh?”

“It’s like you said kid, you didn’t mean to get my throat messed up. I’m not mad. I’m...I’m disappointed...” Mel blinked; what was she tearing up for?

“I said I was sorry.”

“I-I don’t care about that! Y-you’re...you’re…”

“What? A monster? A cold blooded bastard because I don’t care whether Heather Chandler dies?” J. D. had gone up behind her; she could smell her booze as strongly as if he was breathing down her neck. “Is that it?”

“How can you say that? I-it’s not like you at all.” Mel felt her voice tremble involuntarily. “If you hate her, that’s one thing, but to not care if her d-damn throat gets a hole burned in it from your stupid prank? Are you even taking this seriously at all?”

“Mel, don’t hate me. I made you a surprise.”

“I don’t think I’m up for more surprises.”

“You have to see it at least. I was thinking, you got a scar on your stomach didn’t you?”

“Yeah.” Mel replied. “It’s no big deal. Doesn’t even hurt.”

“Hey, you know how you always hold on like a scaredy cat when I give you rides?”

Mel narrowed her eyes in frustration at his playful tone. “This isn’t helping your case kid.”

“Are you the judge? Or the jury?”

“What?”

J. D was chuckling with mirth. “I know you’re not the executioner. You haven’t learned how to fire a gun yet, have you?”

“Jason, s-stop it, you’re drunk.”

“Okay, turn around and see your surprise, and I’ll leave you alone.”

Mel glowered and cursed under her breath. “This better not be some...joke…”

J. D. grinned wide and raised his shirt higher. “I think they might have turned out a bit sloppy. My hands aren’t as steady when I’ve had one too many.”

Mel could see the indents of her nails from past lifts he had provided, but only just so under the fresh divots carved over them. The lines were still bright red and healing.

“Just think, a tattoo would cost me at least fifty bucks for something good. But this? Priceless!” J. D. laughed as Mel put her hands over her mouth. “Eye for an eye, right? If it’s too much, I don’t have a receipt.”

“Are you...how could you...why?!”

Mel fell back and grabbed at her neck as she began breathing in and out in shallow breaths. J. D. was looking down at her with mild curiosity.

“Not a fan huh?”

“Jason, stop it!”

“I’m not hurtin’ ya!” J. D. exclaimed drunkenly as he went to his knees in front of her. “Oh shit, the room’s spinning….how do you drink this crap anyway?”

“Jason, s-stop it...how could you do that to yourself?” Mel began to rise. “I...I have to-”

“Throw up?” J. D. finished and laughed dryly. “Well, isn’t this a bitch…I even made you dinner…”

“I n-never wanted this. Y-you promised to call me if you ever felt like you’d do that to yourself...you can’t do this every time you don’t feel good.”

“What do I do Mel?” J. D. asked as if he was genuinely unaware of other options.

“You c-call me! You call someone, you go somewhere, you don’t, you don’t do that!” Mel hacked out her lungs and doubled over on the carpet.

J. D. smile fell and he crawled over to her side. “You shouldn’t be talking now. I’ll help you up-” he flinched; she had smacked his hand away sharply; Mel looked back at his blank face with shock as though she was just as confused. J. D. felt his insides twist and the cuts sting like they never had.

“Is it the scars?”

“I-”

“You think I’m a freak too, don’t you?”

“No-”

“Hey, it’s cool. Just peachy.” J. D. held up his hands and scooted back. “We’re being honest here, right? I already know you think I’m a sociopath.”

“You’re not listening.”

“Tell me you don’t think I’m a bad person for being okay if Heather dropped dead one day. Not even by me, just from anything. Tell me you don’t think I’m a rotten prick for thinking someone like her would make life better if she just offed herself.”

Mel felt the tears coming out and she shook her head. “N-no. I think you’re bitter and angry and upset. I think you’ve got a raw deal and it’s not fair. But I don’t think you’re a bad person.” she took a deep breath as she sat up and put her arms around his shaking shoulders. “You have to let me help you. You can’t do this when you feel bad. I want to help you.”

J. D. couldn’t lift his arms up to hug her back. “I don’t need your help. I need you to accept me Mel.” he gripped her shoulders and made her look him in the eyes. “I...I feel sick.”

“Do you need to throw up?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t mean to steal your booze.”

“I’m more worried about how you’ll feel in the morning.” Mel told him softly. “Do you want to go to bed?”

J. D. nodded and stood up; Mel followed after him and tried to wipe her face dry.

“This was stupid. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Word to the wise, never drink when you’re feeling depressed. It’s just inviting your brain to make you do bad shit.” Mel said as firmly as her wheezy voice would allow.

“If I was so wise, I wouldn’t have done this in the first place.”

“Do the smart thing and go to bed. Sleep it off; we’ll talk in the morning.”

J. D. let her pull him into her bedroom; his vision made him seeing double and he felt like the world was tipping to the right. He was having a hard time recalling the events of the last five hours aside from his brief chat with Heather Chandler over the phone; in fact, he couldn’t even remember digging the knife into his skin or opening the can of chicken noodle.

It was all a vague blur; the only thing he could recall clearly was wanting to pay and a wave of self loathing, because he knew as much as he had hurt Mel now, he was about to do a whole lot worse. He could only hope she’d find it in herself to let him be there when she fell.


	20. Make a Bad One Good, Make a Wrong One Right

**Author's Note: See the reference? Anyway, shit's about to get real. Enjoy!**

Mel leaned against the frame of the bathroom door. “I’d say I told you so, but...you know what, I will. I told you not to drink at your age.”

“Much obliged.” J. D. managed to croak before he involuntarily heaved up whatever remained in his stomach. His throat was burning now too, along with the inside of his nose and the backs of his teeth; he wish he had thought to bring his own toothbrush from home to scrub out his mouth.

Mel clicked her tongue. “And that was my best stuff too. Not that I can drink it right now….”

J. D. kept himself hunched over the toilet bowl and spit until his saliva was clear.

“I’m going to make you some plain toast. Do we still have bananas?”

“Yeah.”

“How about a peanut butter and banana sandwich?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

Mel looked him over as he gave a great shudder and breathed heavily through his mouth. “Do you want help?”

“Not much you can do now.”

“My brother used to hold my hair back for me when I threw up. But I guess you don’t have to worry about getting puke in yours.” Mel smiled. “Okay, when you’re ready come into the kitchen. I’ve spent most of the morning thinking about some stuff and I need to talk to you before any major decisions are made.”

J. D. nodded silently and stayed on the cold bathroom floor as he heard her close the door for him and walk away.

 _“Stupid, fucking stupid...what’d you have to go and get wasted for? Why now?”_ J. D. wanted to bang his head against the edge of the toilet seat. _“She thinks you’re nuts. There’s no way I can play this off.”_

J. D. sat back in a slump and pulled up his shirt to his chest; the indents were now healing up to thin scabs; only a few would leave actual scars. He really didn’t know what he had been thinking; the day before had been filled with tension waiting for her to come home. Mel was supposed to be home sometime that night, so he had made up a half assed excuse to his dad, went to the store to stock pile on soup and yogurt and other soft foods, and had wholly made plans to have a peaceful, pleasant dinner together when she arrived.

And then the tension just kept piling on the longer the later the night went on; by seven J. D. had poured himself a couple of inches of straight whiskey from a half full bottle. Just to settle his nerves.

By nine o’clock the soup was being reheated for the twentieth time, he had lost his coat, his knife had been tossed carelessly aside on the bed, and even though he could see the marks, he couldn’t feel the sting. The first bottle was long finished and he was currently making his way through the second twenty five ounces with only about a quarter left to sip at. Not that it mattered. By now he had taken to just gulping it down by mouthfuls straight from the bottle.

At least he hadn’t been feeling tense anymore. In fact, J. D. felt downright ecstatic for whenever Mel came home; some people were absolutely horrified at the idea of having permanent scars from surgery, and J. D. figured Mel might feel less self conscious if he had something similar. Besides, she was beautiful either way, so what did a mark from some dumb old incision matter? Still, even if Mel didn’t care herself, he knew she’d think him very considerate and supportive.

Needless to say, J. D. would have never done such a thing sober. Unfortunately, what was done was done, and he couldn’t sit on the tile floor forever hoping Mel would just forget it and move on.

“Here you go.” Mel placed his sandwich right in front of him as J. D. took his seat at the table; her voice was coming out less like a stuttered gasps, but she still had to work to be audible. He smiled only briefly up at her and began to slowly eat; Mel took her spot next to him, a cup of yogurt for her breakfast.

“I’ve been thinking of how to approach this without making you feel worse...Jason, the thing is....I don’t know the first thing about what you’re going through. At least nothing about how you’re coping. But I do know it’s not going to make you feel better. Not really.”

“I know.”

“Yeah, but knowing what you’re supposed to do and doing it are two different brands of cereal. Trust me, I know.” Mel smiled self effacingly. “What I’m trying to get at is...maybe you need a professional.”

“Yeah, good idea. They’ll keep me in a home for troubled youth and I can learn how to pick locks and snort coke.” J. D. didn’t bother to tell her he already knew how to do the former. “Or they’ll shove me in some mental hospital and feed me happy pills.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic.”

“Mel, we don’t live in the most accepting community if you haven’t noticed.”

Mel sighed; truth be told she had spent some time combing through the phone book for a place that might at least provide something along the lines of general counseling, but the closest place wasn’t even accredited. And then there was indeed a group home, but it was only for boys to age eighteen and for kids with nowhere else to go. That led to her second topic.

“Jason, I don’t think you should be living with me.”

J. D. almost choked on his sandwich; he tried to sound as calm as he looked. “Mel, if this is about the booze, you know I’ll pay you back. I swear, I wouldn’t steal from you; I was just feeling on edge. It was stupid though.” he rubbed his head. “Believe me when I say I’ve learned my lesson. I’m sticking to Slurpees.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Mel’s voice was soft but her eyes flashed in urgency. “I don’t think it’s healthy...you know I care about you, but I’m getting the feeling you’re too attached. I want you to trust me and come to me for help, but you need more than that. I want you to go out there and make friends your own age, meet a nice girl...or guy. Not that I’m assuming anything, but I never hear you talking about girls, so…”

“Mel.”

“Okay, okay, but like I said, you’re a young kid and it’d be nice to see you on a date or at least-”

“I am the new kid on the block.” J. D. tried to joke.

“Please be serious. You need to be able to reach out to more people. What if I can’t be there? I have work and now I’m dating Davis-”

J. D. held in a stab of pain.

“-and this thing with Heather is worrying me. Okay, so maybe we can agree to disagree, but I’m worried about...you just seem so...angry.”

“I’m not angry.”

“But-”

“Mel, come on, I’m not about to go one some killing spree. Yeah, I hate Heather. I hate people like her and if it was up to me, I’d keep them on one side of the world so I never had to deal with them ever again.” J. D. supposed it was a technically a true statement; he was only planning on killing two people. That hardly counted as a spree. “But you’re right...I shouldn’t let jerks get to me like I do. And that’s why I need your influence Mel. You keep me grounded. But I’m sorry if I put pressure on you. The last thing I wanted to do was make you worried.”

“It’s okay Jason. I just want to help. I want you to be as happy as you can be.” Mel put her hand on his arm. “Okay, look, I’m not changing the plans about you moving in. But I want you to promise me something.”

“Anything.” Had anyone ever meant it as sincerely as he did?

“Just...go to the dance. Get involved with a club. Hell, just start a conversation. And don’t completely dismiss making friends or dating because it’s Sherwood. You never know. Someone might be out there waiting to meet you.”

“I did talk with that girl.”

“Really?” Mel’s brilliant smile made him feel lower than shit. “The one who reads? Who was it, I didn’t catch her name.”

“I didn’t throw it.”

“Thank you Howie Mandel.” Mel continued to smile nonetheless. “So, when? What’d you say? Did you ask her out?”

“Yesterday, I said sorry, and no.”

“Sorry?”

“I bumped into her. Well, she bumped into me, but ‘Watch it klutz.’ doesn’t sound very civil, does it?”

Mel’s smile fell into a look of disbelief. “Are you kidding me? That was a great chance to sweep her off her feet! Meet cutes like that always lead to a date!”

“Meet whats?”

“Meet cutes. You meet someone in a silly incident like bumping into them or reaching for the last pudding in the cafeteria, you say a good line and bam! Instant charm.”

J. D. smirked. “Yeah, sounds foolproof. What would have been appropriate to say in that instance then?”

“How about…’Sorry, gravitational pull? Nah, too nerdy...okay, you could have said, ‘Hey, I’m going to need your name and number for insurance purposes.’ And then, you give her a dashing smile.” Mel laughed. “Not bad, huh?”

“Yeah, that’s not my style.”

“You’re seventeen, you don’t have style.”

“Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?"

Mel scoffed. “I do just fine thank you.”

“You have no chill when it comes to guys. I swore you were going to faint when you were telling me about that Davis guy.”

“So?”

“I’m sure he already guessed you have about as much experience as me. A seventeen year old. I mean, you are only a few years older.”

J. D. put down his sandwich and leaned forward, hoping his breath smelled like peanut butter and not puke. “You know what your problem is?” he grinned crookedly.

“What?”

“You need experience. Badly.”

“Excuse me? Who are you Dr. Ruth?”

“And you need it often and from someone who knows what the hell they’re doing.” J. D. continued and sat back with a wise, knowing nod. “At least that’s my own diagnosis.”

“Oh please, you men always using your mind with your dick. I hate to break it to you, but not all life’s problems can be solved with sex.” Mel told him. “Some of them are caused by it. Ask my parents. Well, the living one.”

J. D. frowned a bit; he knew she was just joking, but the joke left a bad taste in his mouth.

“If anyone else says that, I’ll deck them.”

“Thanks kid.” Mel smiled coyly. “Anyway, FYI I’m not completely out of the loop.”

“What do you mean?”

“Davis kissed me last night.” Mel looked beside herself. “I just hope he’s as nice as he seems. But if you believe your own advice, maybe you should actually talk to this girl. Who knows, you might be of the same mind.”

“Aren’t you well spoken today.”

“Davis used the expression once. God, I love how he talks...like a recording of some fancy novel or something, but not boring as shit.”

J. D. rose and put his plate in the sink. “Well, I’m going to take a nap.”

“What about school?”

“Skipping. They won’t care. They might call my dad, but he’ll forget about it; he thinks most formal education is a waste of taxpayer’s money anyway.”

Mel rolled her eyes. “Well, go get some sleep then. I won’t need to go to work for a bit longer, so call if you need something. And try to stay off that bike while you’re hungover, you can still get into an accident.”

“I won’t.”

J. D. closed the door to what might as well be his bedroom now; the pillow cases and sheets didn’t even have Mel’s scent anymore aside from the faintest hint of primrose. J. D. laid on his back and stared up at the ceiling blankly.

He had never felt this way before. It wasn’t like falling into a pit. He was the pit, sunken in and empty; J. D. wasn’t sure if it was the half hour of throwing up, but he was certain at some point he must have accidentally swallowed a razor blade from the bathroom cabinet. Every time he breathed, he could feel it scraping the inside of his throat.

And the other night when he did manage to pass out, someone must have snuck in to drill into his chest. That had to be the reason it felt like his heart was having a knife dragged through it repeatedly, because words alone couldn’t possible have made him feel as low as he did.

_“She doesn’t care. She doesn’t want me; hell, she’d be happy if I saw other people. And she kissed him-no, she let him kiss her.”_

J. D. wanted to punch something. He wanted to shoot off his gun, light a cherry bomb, strangle someone; he wanted to make someone hurt as much as he was.

“ _No. Mel didn’t mean it. She’s just saying that. You know she feels insecure, you know she’s worried about the age difference_.” J. D. told himself fiercely; it was all he could do to ebb away the pounding in his skull. “ _Mel doesn’t know better; she thinks she knows what I want, but that’s because I’ve been trying to keep a low profile.”_

As for Davis, he and Heather had already come up with a plan; in hindsight, she would prove to be useful. After all, he didn’t even know where Davis lived; as it turns out, he lived in the high class part of town near the border. Heather was already acquainted and if she could find a way to get him to an area where J. D. could work in relative privacy with no witnesses, he could do it a lot easier with her assistance. She would serve as the bait and he’d set the trap.

Mel would be okay. After all, they had just met, how attached could she possibly be to him? Maybe she’d be sad, of course, but she’d get over it.

_“He probably didn’t even give her a real kiss. He looks like the kind of asshole who’d try to make her into some trophy wife. Mel might be impressed now, but I know her; she’d get sick of him in less than a month anyway. All I’m doing is saving her some valuable time.”_

And then there was the notorious Heather Chandler. She probably thought she had him in the palm of her hand; maybe she even intended on double crossing him. But J. D. knew that she would never seek his help unless she needed it. After all, if Heather really had the nerve, she would have just taken care of Davis herself. She had her own connections, and actually pulling the trigger was the easy part, if she had the resolve. Plus, to the adult population, she was just a young lady from a nice family, in a nice neighborhood, with nice, conservative values. Catfights and typical girlhood squabbles aside, how could she ever do anything truly malevolent? How could anything so horrible happen in a quiet little town like Sherwood?

And if J. D. was honest, it probably wouldn’t have if Davis and Heather hadn’t been stupid enough to cross him. Besides, the world would be better off without her. As for Davis...well, in all honesty, J. D. didn’t care. His character and motives didn’t concern him in the least, but in J. D.’s eyes, he was just as guilty all the same. Davis Howard had stolen something that wasn’t his to have. He had taken advantage of Mel’s ignorance. If she had known how J. D. really felt, she wouldn’t have ever given him the time of day.

And he meant what he told her; in addition, what Mel needed was someone who could open her eyes, not shove their own agenda down her throat. She wouldn’t learn a thing from people like Davis or Heather except to be shallow and apathetic and money hungry.

Still, J. D. couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt to have her be so happy about the prospect of him flirting with some girl from his school. But it was also expected. Mel would never be bitter or envious; of course she’d encourage him if she thought it would make him happy. It had nothing to do with her not loving him, in fact, it was _because_ she loved him so much she was so selfless.

 _“Okay, you see, you’re just overreacting.”_ J. D. sighed and wanted to laugh at his own foolishness. He had been getting worked up over nothing. Everything she had been suggesting that morning was for his own benefit; she had been wrong of course, but it was the thought that counted.

 _“If anything, she should be the one getting upset; I drank up her whiskey and ruined dinner. That’s not counting that little knife mishap…I still need to find it.”_ J. D. knew the matter was dropped for now though. He had eased Mel’s mind and once the Davis and Heather problem was taken care of and his eighteenth birthday rolled around, he could do even more for her.

Patience was key. If he got too aggressive too soon, Mel would get suspicious. When she got home from work, he’d make sure to have dinner ready, everything cleaned, her whiskey replaced, and him sober as a judge.

They’d talk and eat and watch the newest episode of _‘The Golden Girls’_ because Mel was a huge fan of Bea Arthur and he had to admit, it was a funny show, and he’d sit by her and try not to let their thighs touch too much; in the morning he’d trudge through school, go home, lock himself up in his room and work on his project to make Davis Howard old news. Heather already had the meeting spot and the date all set up; he gave her points for working fast.

The countdown had begun.


	21. Fade to Black

“Are you sure?”

Davis nodded and smiled in amusement. “You’re holding them right.”

“No, I mean are you sure I won’t get sick?” Mel asked again, her chopsticks poised over the roles of rice and fish wrapped in dry seaweed. Sherwood had recently been proud to open their first sushi restaurant.

“Of course. Assuming the fish is fresh, but then, they’d have never opened this place otherwise or the FDA would be down here faster than you can say ‘food poisoning’.”

“I sure as hell hope I don’t get it…” Mel stared at the roll like it was indeed designed to poison her. “Are you sure sure?”

“Yes!” Davis laughed. “At least for the price, the quality is acceptable. Don’t get me wrong, if you wanted really good sushi, I know a much better place, but since you insisted on treating me this time-”

“Well, I don’t want you paying for everything. Besides, it’s a special day.” Mel smiled at him sweetly. “I can actually eat solids.”

“Then shouldn’t I be treating you to dinner?”

“Eh, tomayto tomahto.” Mel shrugged and brought the sushi roll closer to her mouth; everyone else in the restaurant seemed to be eating the food just fine. “What’s in this?”

“Salmon, cream cheese, and cucumber. It’s actually a more western flavor; when you’re ready to try the white tuna, be my guest.”

Mel admired the poise with which Davis handled his chopsticks and ate his piece of raw fish over rice in one casual bite.

“Well, okay.” Mel ate the whole thing and started chewing thoroughly so as to make it easier to swallow. While her doctor had told her at the follow up appointment she was ready to eat something other than ice cream and chicken noodle, she was instructed to take it slow and avoid very hot foods. “Oh wow. This salmon melts in your mouth...and the cheese is good with it…”

“If you think that’s good, I’m definitely treating you to the good stuff later. Your mind will be sufficiently blown.”

“Oh, don’t do that.” Mel said demurely; the tone felt so foreign to her, but she couldn’t help feel bashful.

Davis couldn’t see her too often, but when he did, it seemed like he always wanted to spoil her in some way. One date he took her to a matinee, one took place at a real dance hall, and yet another time he had driven her all the way out to a supposedly haunted house for the Halloween season. Davis had even taken her to the zoo when he heard she had missed her own middle school field trip there; he bought her a popsicle and a stuffed bear she put on the top of her fireplace mantle. In a  weird way, she felt like a kid again, a lovestruck teenager to be exact. And the best part was, he let her.

“You’ll love it! And here, try one of the kamikaze rolls.”

“What’s that sauce?”

“Chili paste.”

“Oh boy is it really spicy?”

“No, no, it just has a kick to it.”

“Alright, alright.” Mel ate the whole piece in one go; she was so apprehensive of the flavor she hadn’t realized she had eaten the roll right off of Davis’ own chopsticks. “Okay, it’s pretty good.”

“See, isn’t trying new things fun?”

“Yeah, you said something like that when you shanghaied me into eating the pickled ginger.” Mel said dryly as she sipped at her green tea; Davis had asked the waitress to make sure it was served lukewarm, though Mel didn’t see why when she could have just waited for it to cool.

“It’s supposed to settle your stomach.” Davis said as he popped another piece of sushi into his mouth. “But it is pretty strong. Hey Mel?”

“What?”

“You’re cute.”

“Oh my god stop.” Mel put her hand over her mouth to hide her grin.

“You act like I just said something inappropriate.” Davis chuckled knowingly. “To be honest, even if I did, I’d be surprised you’d get embarrassed; didn’t I say enough last night?”

“Davis, quiet!” Mel whispered harshly and looked around quickly.

“What’s the matter? We’re both adults.”

“Yeah, but...someone might hear…”

“Let them. Of course, it might be a bit of a hassle if someone here gets jealous of me.” Davis teased. “Why, I’d have to throw off my gloves for a duel with these swords.” he raised his chopsticks and Mel rolled her eyes despite her cheeks still being lightly flushed.

“Speaking of dueling, when in that book does the chick stab that guy?”

“The priest?”

“Yeah, him. Or that captain jack off who only wanted one thing.” Mel scoffed. “Geez, they have that type in every century or what?”  
“Well, she never does directly meet up with him again.” Davis told her. “And she isn’t strong enough to fight off the priest. Besides, if she did strike him outright, it wouldn’t help her.”

“But the soldiers and all that are after her already? Why not give him a good punch before she gets burned at the stake?”

“Mel, you’re nitpicking again.”

“Sorry, sorry. I still don’t get why she didn’t just lie to him when he said he’d saver her and take her away from the cathedral. I mean, if she escaped with him and played along, she could have escaped for real at some point.”

Davis nodded as he swallowed his tuna. “That would make sense. But keep in mind, she doesn’t want to live if it means she can’t be with the captain. And she definitely doesn’t want to go with the man who killed him and framed her.”

“But she could trick him. Hell, maybe she could even kill him and get revenge.”

“She just isn’t thinking that way.” Davis replied simply. “She only thinks with her emotions; keep in mind, she is only fifteen and just went through a very traumatic incident. On top of it all, she’s repulsed by the priest.”

“Eh, I just don’t get it.” Mel sighed. “It’s like this book should just be titled, ‘How Love and Lust Turns You into a Dumbass/Sociopath’. And then there’s all the hypocritical religious people; sounds like a fun story and all the characters who straight up die.”

“If you think that’s bad, you should read the passages where he just talks about the structure of the cathedral and the history of France. It’s well written of course, but it’s so tedious I could barely get through it.”

“Sounds like a fun book.” Mel remarked. “Are your stories that depressing?”

“Sometimes. I like to mix comedy, romance, and tragedy myself.”

“So, what kind of book do you think I could read.”

“Hm...I’m not too sure on your tastes yet. What kind do you like?”

“I never read much for fun.” Mel admitted casually. “I hate mysteries. I can never figure them out.”

“Isn’t that the point?”

“And I hate romances.”

“Oh come on Melanie.” Davis said incredulously.

“They’re always the same plot.” Mel said. “The guy is boringly nice, he likes the perfect girl, she’s dating a dick for some reason, and the nice guy plans some whacky scheme to steal her away and it all works out.”

“Not all of them. Sometimes it’s toxic. Look this book. Or every other Shakespeare play.” Davis looked thoughtful. “But I guess you have a point; I always preferred period pieces or tragedies.”

“Why? Aren’t they...tragic?”

“I just do.” Davis shrugged. “So how’s your adopted kid been?”

“Oh lord.” Mel slapped his shoulder lightly. “He is not my kid. But he’s doing okay; we were going to pass out candy for Halloween, but I feel bad. I was hoping he might have plans.”

“I wish I could join you.” Davis smiled apologetically. “Why do you say that?”

“It’s not like I want him throwing eggs at cars or toilet papering houses, but I can’t imagine a teenage boy wants to spend Halloween passing out candy to kids while I stuff myself with what we don’t give away.”

“I would.”

“Aw, you know what I mean.” Mel smiled and looked at him from under her eyelashes as she stuffed her mouth nervously with sushi.

“I don’t see the problem at any rate. I was pretty introverted when I was that age. It didn’t help I skipped a couple of grades.” Davis added sheepishly. “Besides, isn’t it better to spend time with the people you care about?”

Mel giggled. “Aw come on, stop teasing. I really am kinda worried. Is it normal for someone to spend so much time alone? Especially with his issues...maybe some friends would help.”

“I think it’s more important be around the people you feel the most comfortable with. Do you go out with friends much?”

“Mm, not really. I feel like I’m always working, but I do talk with people at the bar. If I get in a jam, there’s more than just one person I feel comfortable talking to about it. And...well...I won’t be around forever.”

Davis frowned suddenly. “Melanie, please don’t tell me this is the part you tell me you have an incurable illness and you have to break up with me to save me from feeling heartbroken when you die?”

“What, no! Boy, you’ve been reading too many of those tragedies…”

“Then what’s the worry. You’re only in your twenties.”

Mel shrugged and looked down at her plate. “Well, my brother was nine when he died.”

Davis’s reassuring smile fell. “Oh. I’m sorry, I completely forgot-”

“No, no, I’m okay. But if if it taught me one thing, it was that life is already so short and for some people it ends way before you think it will. Maybe I’m a bit paranoid.”

“It’s always good to keep in mind life isn’t forever. It makes you appreciate the one you have.”

“It’s weird Davis...before I didn’t think too much on what would happen if I ever died. Like, if one day I just up and kicked the bucket; but now I’ve got someone who really counts on me and sometimes I’m up at night and I wonder, what’ll happen if I just didn’t wake up in the morning? Jason is finally going to get away from his deadbeat dad and the only reason he can do it is because he’ll have someplace to stay while he saves money and finishes school.”

“And if you died, he might have to keep moving around with his dad.”

“Pretty much.” Mel said with a heavy sigh; her appetite suddenly wasn’t quite as ravenous. “It’s scary when you realize you’re responsible for someone other than yourself.”

“But you’re not. I mean, not to be insensitive, but you don’t have to do anything for him. The only reason you feel like you’re responsible is because, well, you feel that way.”

“I can’t help it.”

Davis smiled shyly and took Mel’s hand from across the table. “I know. It’s one of the reasons I’m so crazy about you.”

“Ugh, look at that. This guy is going to make me hurl.” Heather lowered her binoculars around her neck and readjusted her sunglasses; she could get a pretty clear view through the sushi restaurants long glass window. “If I had known Mel was asking me to help pick out a dress for this shitty place, I’d have said no.”

“Yeah right.” J. D. was counting his bullets in the passenger seat; they weren’t a part of his plan, but plans could change. He wanted to be prepared. “I should be getting paid for this.”

“Um, your payment is me not calling the cops.” Heather reminded him snottily.

“Hey, remember who’s the one who took her to your nice little hotel and got so sloshed you couldn’t keep an eye on her?”

“Oh, so it’s all my fault?”

“Also, what’s with the incognito get up? We’re parked far enough so she’d never see us.” J. D. looked at the red scarf tied around her head, holding back her mane of blonde hair.

“First off, this is the trend in Paris right now.”

“Whoop-de-goddamn-doo.”

“Second, it never hurts to be careful.” Heather eyed his dirty jacket. “I’m going to have to disinfect my car after this.”

“Hey prom queen, look up.” J. D. ducked down slightly in his seat; Mel and Davis were leaving. “In fifteen minutes or so, he should be at her place. What time you got?”

“Enough. Buckle your seat belt idiot, we don’t want the cops to pull us over before we can even get this done.” Heather put the key in the ignition and turned it, waiting for Davis’ convertible to pull out of the parking lot and drive down the other street. The first part of the plan was to invite Davis to coffee on the pretense of needing his help with a book report at a quaint, yet intricately designed building of a cafe just near the edge of Sherwood.

But the real appeal lied in the location; the only parking lot was behind the actual building; now, one might be under the impression that an establishment in the nicer part of town would be up to date with all forms of security. That being said, the owners were complacent enough to not feel quite wary of the possibility of anyone breaking into the cafe and robbing the register; even the idea of some hooligans coming around the side of the alley to vandalize on of their patrons cars was the farthest thing from their mind.

Heather blew lightly on her Americano before taking a sip; she actually preferred to avoid the coffee on the principle of it staining her teeth, but desperate times called for desperate measures. With

So, when Davis parked his own convertible just in that spot where the long broken security camera, who the owners had not seen any urgent reason to get repaired any time soon, it was all too perfect.

“How did you know it was broken anyway?”

“I was fooling around with the manager’s son there and he told me.”

J. D. had shaken his head with a thin grin. “Why am I not surprised.”

“Oh spare me. We’d be shit out of luck if it wasn’t for me bargaining for free coffee and pastries for the school bake sale.”

“Aren’t you just Mother Teresa.”

But Heather would need to reign in her irritation for the time being, though it was hard. She had no problem stalling so J. D. could put his skills to good use for their goal, but he had neglected to tell her exactly what method he was using to do the deed. He had told her that it was better for the plan if she didn’t know; it was of the utmost importance that Heather act perfectly natural and play the role of high school girl seeking help for her homework.

“Can I get you anything else Mr. Howard? The croissants here are baked fresh and the eclairs are filled with bavarian cream so creamy, you’d wonder how you went your life without trying one.”

“Oh no, but thank you Heather.”

“No, thank you! I know this is a bit out of the blue; normally I would ask for help from one of my study buddies, but they’re pretty swamped themselves with their own homework. My parents are still going to be out of town until the week before Thanksgiving, so they can’t be of much help.” Heather said with an airy melancholic sigh.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Davis couldn’t help a small frown. “I have to say, I was bit surprised you asked me for help though.”

“Mel told me all about how well read you are in classic literature.”

“Oh yes, I nearly forgot you knew each other.” Davis smiled in recognition. “Did she say that?”

“Yes, and more.” Heather smiled knowingly. “And I need a good recommendation. I was thinking _‘Catcher in the Rye’_ , but everyone has that for an option. ‘ _To Kill a Mockingbird’_? Who hasn’t done that report to death?”

“What about _‘The Great Gatsby_ ’? Did you know that the text was meant for college level reading? In truth, even I had trouble getting through some of the more symbolic and prose heavy paragraphs, but if you’re looking for a challenge that will show off your merits-”

“As a matter of fact, my english teacher was just talking about that book; she put up a list of recommended books for us to read and write the report for, but a lot of the kids really didn’t want to do that one.”

“I’m sure you’ll find it enjoyable. The characters and the themes are absolutely iconic and it’s a real treat just to read Fitzgerald’s style.”

Davis spoke with more enthusiasm every second; Heather tried not to bite her tongue too hard. How did Mel put up with someone who rambled like this?

_“What does she even see in him? Okay, he’s got money, but I know she doesn’t care about that. So what is it?”_

Heather half listened to Davis as she took in his features; nice enough hair, not thinning yet, but his eyes were a somber sort of grey. Small nose, eyes spaced a few inches apart, thick eyebrows; not ugly, but not good looking. Plain and clean cut in a way that couldn’t make it more obvious he worked in something as dry and dull as finances if the pressed suits didn’t give it away. From the few times she had met him or heard her father inquiring of accounts and charts and numbers, she could not sense one ounce of charm; it was like listening to the stock market in person. She supposed it could be his age, but he didn’t even seem that mature, not in a rugged, worldly sense that would reasonably drive a young woman wild with intrigue.

_“So what is it? He’s not hot, he’s not funny, he’s not anything. So why him? Why does some old, boring, average looking, book obsessed dork have more of a chance than me?”_

Heather sipped at her cooling coffee; it was frustrating to no end.

_“He’s just some guy. Well, what’s so great about men anyway? All they care about is one thing; they either want a fuck or a meal ticket, and then when they do it they’re a stud and I’m a skank. What a fucking joke.”_

Her sex appeal was her weapon, her line of defense and offense against the various pigs who lusted after her; and why not use it? Brains and moral code didn’t get anyone squat.

_“What about Mel?”_

Heather held back her wry smile; if anything that was just more proof what being a decent person got you. If Mel hadn’t been the way she is, then Davis wouldn’t be a half hour away from impending death, she wouldn’t have narrowly missed an attempt on her own skin. Mel herself would have missed out on a scarred throat and a homicidal whack job willing to commit the ultimate sin just to keep her how he wanted.

She knew this wasn’t love, not the kind Mel had for her or J. D. or Davis or her surrogate parents or her dead brother. It wasn’t selfless or gentle or loyal; it didn’t make Heather a better person and it didn’t even make her feel good, because Heather knew no matter what she did, Mel wouldn’t ever look at her the way she looked at Davis when he so much as touched her hand. It was so irritating too. It made her pissed and ready to smack one of her own friends right in the face if they caught her at a time she was mulling the situation over. It made her tired.

And it hurt. It hurt knowing how useless it all was to even feel any of it. Because even if she was a man, Heather was pretty sure she didn’t stand a chance. Not how she was now.

Still, she didn’t care. If she couldn’t have all of Mel, than why should anyone else?

“Thank you again Mr. Howard.”

She had time. She could stop him. She could call him back or make an excuse to find J. D. and tell him the whole thing was called off. She could let Mel be happy as she almost made her.

“No problem Miss Chandler. I’d love to treat you and Mel to lunch sometime to hear how your project turns out.”

“Me and Mel?”

“Of course.” Davis chuckled good naturedly as he stood up and straightened his tie. “Melanie thinks very highly of you; maybe it’s moving a bit fast, but I want to know the people in her life.”

“Well, I’m sure she would like that too.”

Heather waved as Davis went to his car; so far she had not seen head or hair of J. D. and now the. _“What the hell you psycho? Have you been dicking around this whole time or did you just chicken out?”_

Davis gave her a warm smile and was reaching for his beeping pager as she sat down in the driver’s seat. In hindsight, Heather personally thought it was a kind send off; the last thing he was thinking of was most likely plans with Mel when the front seat combusted into an ear piercing rumble of fire and smoke and debris just loud enough to muffle the sound of Heather’s scream of shock and horror. Davis didn’t even have the time to let out a sound of pain as he was blown partway out of the windshield.

In five minutes the ambulance, the fire department, and the cops would surround the quiet little cafe. Heather wouldn’t see the rescue team drag Davis’ unconscious self out of the ruined, burning car turned death trap. The police would be taking her to the station, where she would be questioned politely yet with clear detachment about what had transpired in the minutes before Davis Howard had a bomb planted under the driver’s seat.

Heather made sure to ask in a trembling voice whether he was going to be okay as she wiped her tear stricken face; the police had first said he was in critical condition, but an hour later, he was pronounced dead from blood loss caused by injuries from the flying shrapnel and glass, as well as the trauma from third degree burns. From the whispers heather could decipher between some loafing interns, Davis had been nearly unrecognizable when they managed to wheel him into the ambulance.

After a surprisingly long, yet predictably uneventful call from her parents, who the police had thought to contact, Heather was free to drive home. So far, there was absolutely no suspects to be identified.

And then the next day after school, J. D. passed her a note via her locker to meet him in the cemetery. Heather herself had spent the day being showered with sympathy and pleas to reveal all the details of what had only been identified as homicide by an unknown assailant. People were urged to report anyone who seemed suspicious, but apparently, no one had seen a thing. As if anyone had been on the lookout for any strange, dark figures in a perfectly nice little town like Sherwood.

“That was pretty messed up.”

J. D. didn’t bother to blow the smoke from his lips out of the way of her face. “Says the accomplice who lured him in. So, did I perform my task to your satisfaction or do I have anything to worry about?”

“The cops didn’t suspect a thing. Typical.” Heather drawled as she smoked her own cigarette with slow drags. She hadn’t bothered to contact Mel about anything; in fact, she had made sure to leave the school quickly and silently so no one would follow her.

“I hope I don’t need to worry about you telling any of your Diet Cokehead followers about this? Not unless you want to end up in prison; I don’t think orange is your color.”

“Like I’d be that stupid. And why didn’t you say anything? If I had been standing any closer to the fucking car, I’d have gotten my hair charred off.”

J. D. smiled wickedly, gripping the end of the cigarette in his teeth. “Your performance cemented the scene. I guarantee they wouldn’t believe me even if I let it slip you played a part in this.”

“I’m so sure.” Heather retorted and threw her cigarette to the ground; she searched the lapels of her coat for another. “Like seeing me get my face melted off was totally not part of the plan.”

“Hey, no need to turn against allies. Just keep your cool; we got away with it! Now is the time to celebrate.” J. D. handed her a lone cigarette and she snatched it with a cold frown; he tried to smile civilly as she used a match to make a flame. “Besides, that wasn’t part of my plan at all.”

Heather laughed meanly and put the cigarette to her lips for a puff. “Yeah, whatever. So now what...what…?”

The cigarette fell from her fingers and onto the dry leaves; Heather’s hands and feet were slowly going numb. J. D. took a step forward and dragged his foot over the fallen cigarette to stub out the embers. She could only just make out his face; every second her vision was going blurrier.

“You-!” Heather couldn’t hardly hear her own voice or J. D.’s for that matter. _“Bastard...I knew it….”_

“Sorry, but I can’t afford to leave any chatty loose ends.” J. D. shrugged and pulled out a brown, translucent bottle. “Oh wait...I’m not sorry.”

But before Heather could reply, she was down on the ground, her head narrowly slamming into the side of a gravestone. If there was any place fitting enough to die, it was here. Not only were there no witnesses, no one visited so close to the sun going down, but if her folks wanted to, they could just toss her in an unused grave.

 _“Okey dokey, now that she can’t struggle, time for the last nail in the coffin.”_ J. D. pulled his glock from the inside pocket of his coat; it was already on silent, just for insurance. The chloroformed soaked cigarette was the icing on the cake, making the hinderance of a flailing and screaming harpy nonexistent.

It was too easy really, but then, Heather Chandler wasn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the shed; he was certain she had never thought he’d have the balls to turn around and concoct a plan to do away with the one other person who was standing in his way.

So when the bullet pierced the side of her brain and J. D. was careful to place the gun in such a way that it would look like the wound was self inflicted, he barely felt a thing. Even the typed note he had printed out and ready to stick inside the windshield wiper of the late Heather’s porsche gave him no real satisfaction; he barely put any heart into the brief message, _‘I’m sorry. Goodbye.’_

J. D. might as well have squashed an ant; he was almost disappointed at the complete lack of emotion when he rode off on his motorbike he had hidden on the other side of the wooded field, aside from a faint feeling of adrenaline as he made his escape.

It was anti-climatic, but then, death was a let down.

If J. D.  had to put a definition on what was actually stirring in his heart, it was relief and anticipation. The obstacles were taken down. The pests were under control and now the only thing left to do was sit back and plan for his last and final move.

Today was the first day of the rest of his life, and all it had taken was ending the lives of two others.


	22. Makes You Give In and Cry

“Trick-or-treat!”

“Well hey there sweetie! You’re the first ghost I’ve seen today.” Mel dropped a mini chocolate bar and a caramel into the plastic jack-o-lantern. “Well, aside from the one in my house.”

The boy lifted up his sheet and gaped at her. “No way!”

“Well, they’re pretty quiet for the most part.” Mel knocked on her door frame with a teasing grin. “Except on nights like tonight.”

The boy’s shock turned into a knowing grin. “Yeah sure.” he put his sheet back down to peer at her from the eye holes. “Thanks for the candy lady.”

“Be careful in the dark!” Mel waved and closed the door behind her as she set the bowl overflowing with sweets on the stool; she had made sure to set it up right next to the door for easy access.

It was too bad; for the moment, she almost felt happy.

“Oh god, come on Mel, pull it together.”

Mel rubbed the bridge of her nose and looked down forlornly at the half empty glass of whiskey on her coffee table. She had paused Friday the 13th just as one of the kids was being hacked in the middle with the killer’s machete. She wanted to indulge in her usual Halloween traditions, half hoping such graphic and ridiculous looking violence would make the real life kind not seem so scary.

She had gotten the news yesterday from J. D.; Heather Chandler was found in the middle of the cemetery, her car in park, and a gun slipped out of her hand. She had reportedly shot herself in her temple; a short suicide note was the only thing left to indicate how truly unhappy she was.

“No. That’s not true.”

Mel frowned regretfully at her now emptied cup; she knew it wasn’t the answer, but frankly, she didn’t know what else to do. Sheila and Gary were relaxing at their own house and entertaining a few neighborhood kids they were asked to babysit; she couldn’t bother them with this now. She wished she could.

 _“And I still haven’t heard back from Davis.”_ Mel sighed heavily and poured herself one more drink; the other day he had in fact told her that he might be busy the next day, and not able to take any personal phone calls. That was all well and good, but then yesterday she had both paged and called his office, yet was left without so much as a reply saying he was busy.

_“Is this is his way of saying he’s not interested anymore? I hear guys typically will just stop contacting you altogether, but it was just a little bit ago Davis was saying he was crazy about me...”_

With a sigh of resignation, Mel took down the stuffed teddy bear he had bought her from the fireplace mantle; she had been hoping he would stop by sometime that night. A night in cuddling on the couch with a roaring fire and eating candy while watching scary movies sounded like a great time to her.  
 _“But maybe not so much to him…”_ Mel held the bear closer. _“No. Just not with me...god I should have known. It was too good to be true. Davis probably realized he was moving things too fast and wanted to pull the plug on things before it got too serious.”_

Mel felt guilty; here she was feeling sorry for herself when someone she knew was feeling so bad that they actually killed themselves. But even so, she couldn’t keep Davis from popping up in her mind; she needed someone to talk to more than anything else, but there wasn’t anyone.

By the time J. D. arrived with a bottle of alcoholic apple cider, Mel had turned off the porch light to perspective trick-or-treaters and was laying on the couch in a melancholy daze. She barely was able to get up from the couch to see who had come inside.

“Someone got toasty by the fire.” J. D. kept a genial smile on his face when he sat down next to Mel; she was holding the teddy bear from her and Davis’ zoo date close to her like a lifeline.

“I-I know I shouldn’t, but it doesn’t hurt my throat much at all. It’s most all healed up.” Mel hiccuped and smiled at him sleepily. “Oh Jason, why are men so damn hard to figure out? One minute they’re saying all this lovey dovey crap and feeling you up, and the next ‘wham!’ They just disappear off the face of the planet.” she flopped back on the couch and sighed. “At least we never went all the way….shit, what am I bitching about? Poor Heather…”

“Mel, you’re still upset about that?”

“Jason...can I tell you a secret? You have to promise not to tell anyone.” Mel put a finger to her lips and made a shushing sound; J. D. wondered if she would ever remember this conversation in the morning.

“Aw, come on,” he said as he sat down and screwed off the top to one of the cider bottles; Mel looked hesitant to take it, but did so with a large shrug. “You know you can tell me anything Mel.”

“I mean it, you have to swear. Heather didn’t want me to say anything ‘cause of her reputation, but...well, it doesn’t seem to matter so much anymore huh?”

J. D. handed her a tissue to blow her nose and sat back, waiting for her to finish so he could deliver his news.

“Heather and I met when I helped her out at Sheila’s; she was being treated like shit by this college guy. She was tripping on some bad pills he gave her, and he wouldn’t take her home. She went into the bathroom...she was crying. She was calling herself names too, at least from what I could hear.” Mel sniffed and quickly wiped her eyes. “I never said anything to her about it, but maybe I should have. If I did…”

“Mel, it’s not your fault.”

“Is it? She was under so much pressure...she told me she felt like she couldn’t trust anyone. She said I was the only one, me. Can you believe it? Part of me knew she would just deny it if I did try to talk about what I heard, but if I had just tried-”

J. D. took the bottle away from Mel’s lips. “Heather knew she could go to you, trust me. Anyone could tell she liked you. But sometimes it’s not enough Mel. Not for everyone.”

“Maybe. But now I’ll never know.” Mel put a hand to her throat and tried to clear it. “Jason, I know she could be so awful...but she was someone’s baby. And she was hurting enough to...I never thought-” she cut herself off with a loud sob. “No wonder Davis left me high and dry; I probably deserve it for not helping her when I had the chance.”

“Heather wasn’t your responsibility Mel. I mean, let’s get real, you’re pretty awesome,” J. D. slung an arm carefully over her shoulders; she buried her face into the bear. “But you can’t do everything. You can’t help everyone. Some people can’t be fixed....god Mel, you’re not making this easy…”

“W-what’s not easy?”

J. D.’s mouth was set in a tight frown and ran his fingers through his hair. “I take it from what you said about Davis...well, it was in the paper and the news, so I was thinking you might have heard…”

Mel stared up at his somber eyes. “Jason, spit it out. What don’t I know?”

To her surprise, J. D. brought both of his arms around her in a warm embrace, one of his hands curled up in the back of her hair.

“Davis...he’s dead Mel. It happened two days ago; someone put a bomb under the driver’s seat of his car and when he sat down...it activated some trigger or something. The details aren’t clear, but the cops are saying it was definitely a planned murder.”

Mel was completely still.

“Are you joking?” she asked softly.

“No.”

“Jason...you’re wrong. No, that’s-that’s just crazy.” Mel almost sounded like she wanted to laugh but her eyes glistened with restrained growing panic. “You’re joking, you’re-”

“Mel, calm down.”

“I am calm.”

“I saw this morning on the news.”

“No-”

“And it was in the paper, the whole story-”

“Stop it!”

“I’m sorry.” J. D. wrapped his arms around her tightly. “I mean it.”

“I...I don’t…”

“They searched through his car and found what was left. The think he was laundering money for some shady people; in the trunk were letters and money. They got a warrant and went to his house and they found more stuff. Someone was out to get him. They think he was going to try to back out of a deal or something.”

This part was actually one hundred percent true; J. D. had indeed been watching the news that morning in the middle of packing up his few belongings and the TV was half on. Bud was laughing at the case, saying whoever did it was doing a half assed job for not blowing up the entire car. The cops being interviewed had indeed stated they found Davis Howard guilty of money laundering and they were already on the trail for suspects involved with the scheme. Not that the law could punish him in any way now.

J. D. felt a mix of shock followed by delight.

“I’m really sorry Mel.”

“Davis wouldn’t...I never would have thought…” she laughed weakly and clung to his jacket. “Jason, this isn’t real. This can’t be real. First Heather, and now Davis?!”

“Mel, you need to calm down. I can smell the alcohol from the other side of the room. I think you should go to bed.”

Mel pulled back and stared at him. “Why?”

“You need to get yourself some rest-”

“Why? Why, why, why…?”

J. D. looked down at her carefully. Mel didn’t seem to be talking to him; her pupils were blown wide. Tears were filling her eyes, but they didn’t fall, as though they had been frozen in place. “Why? Why does everyone always leave? Is it me?”

“What…?”

“Davis is gone. Heather is gone. My brother. My parents were always gone. Everyone’s leaving Jason.” Mel spoke faintly, almost absently. She was in shock. “It exploded…? How...it must have been painful...I told him people die out of nowhere...I jinxed...I jinxed it…”

“Mel?” J. D. was starting to feel genuine concern. “Mel, I really think it might be a good idea to get some sleep.” he stood up and carefully pulled her with him, as gently as if she was made of glass. Mel followed him without complaint, letting him lead her like a child as she muttered nonsense.

“He’s dead...they’re all dead.”

“Come on Mel...follow me.”

J. D. put a arm around her shoulder; it was like guiding someone in a trance. She didn’t even seem aware of his presence at all at this point; she just put one foot in front of the other, slowly, slowly walking next to him as they went to her room.

Mel sat down on the bed, legs crossed and hands limp in her lap.

Her head was buzzing from the pain, yet as acutely as she could feel it, she was strangely numb. Her thoughts were not racing, but floating quickly through her mind as if she was fast forwarding a movie in slow motion.

Heather sobbing through the bathroom door and begging her for her help when she could no longer put up a tough front. The first night Sheila and her met, the woman leaning over the bar counter as Mel let her tears fall down her face and spoke in mumbles over an empty plate. Gary rubbing her head roughly when she finally figured out how to use the register. J. D. hugging her like a lifeline the night she provided him a place to sleep and someone to care. Davis holding her hand and smiling at her like he couldn’t believe she was real. As if she were a thing to be marveled. As if she was good for something.

Jason calling out to her for the last time, pedaling faster and faster before being slammed into by a few tons of metal. His hand still warm in hers as she silently begged to take his place. Her parents accusing stares and dry eyes as they went with their only son to his death bed. Wordlessly screaming into her hands, mouth stretched painfully as she sat alone in the bathroom stall in the hospital. They had just told her he was gone and she was pleading with god to take her too so she wouldn’t have to be alone.

“Why can’t I go too?”

“Mel?”

“I want to see them.”

J. D. stood over Mel as she stared off, past the wall of her bedroom at something she could only see. “Who’s them?”

“Jason.”

“Yes?”

“No, Jason. I want to see Jason.”

“You can’t. He’s dead.”

That got a reaction. The tears fell over her cheeks one by one but her gaze just seemed even emptier than before.

“I know.”

Mel’s felt something hard under her calf; she moved her hand and absently patted under the sheets until she felt something thin and hard. She reached under the cloth and brought out J. D.’s knife.

“I was looking for that.” J. D. waited for a response, but Mel had nothing to say.

She stared at the smooth blade for some time.

“Here.”

J. D. let out a breath as she handed him it without looking at him; for a second her wondered if he would have to wrestle it from her grip.

“Mel?”

“I don’t know if I’m drunk anymore. It’s weird. It’s like being hurt zaps it all out of you.” Mel slowly looked up at him. “Can I have another beer?”

J. D. wanted to laugh but she looked too pathetic. “Mel, you don’t have to ask. I’m the one who’s underage, remember.”

“Oh. Yes.”

J. D. sighed and moved to sit next to her; the single bed barely had enough room for one person. To avoid pushing her off by accident he made her lie down vertically. Mel didn’t object as he moved her limp arms to cross over her stomach or when he covered her with the pink quilt; in fact, her dull eyes seemed to flicker with a sense of recognition when she caught sight of the soft material.

“Jason?”

“Which one?” J. D. asked wryly when he laid down next to her.

“My Jason.” Mel pulled the quilt up to her chin and hugged it tight to her chest.

“Which one?”

Mel’s hiccup might have been a drunken chuckle. “Mine!”

J. D. blinked. “You’re really messed up by this, huh Mel?” he scratched the back of his head; he had not been prepared to deal with a mental breakdown that most likely wouldn’t even be remembered in the morning.

“Mel, try to sleep okay?”

“Okay.” Mel nodded and held the blanket tighter, her eyes owlishly large and staring up at him through a fog. “They’re gone...why am I still here?”

“Why not?”

“No reason?”

“There you go.” J. D. ruffled her bangs. “People die and there’s no real rhyme or reason. Everyone has to die. Hopefully most go to heaven.”

“Heaven?”

“Sure. It’s the only place everyone can get along. Death is the great equalizer.”

“Heaven isn’t real. It probably isn’t anyway.” Mel looked at him strangely. “Are you religious?”

“Can’t say I am. But if there’s no heaven, what’s the point in us all suffering down here?”

“No reason. I guess you could make one for yourself though.” Mel told him with a shrug. “I don’t mind if I stop existing someday; it’s like not being born. But…”

“But what?”

“I think living is harder. At least when stuff like this happens...I hear most people don’t have their friends and family die until they’re a lot older, but look at me. Mine are dropping off like flies.” Mel seemed to gain some of her sobriety back the more she talked and the more J. D. stroked her hair. “So, that blows.”

“I know.” J. D. said. “But you know what you do to make it blow less?”

“Drink?”

“No. And not what I did either.” J. D. nodded to his stomach. “You do what you do.”

Mel frowned up at him, her face puzzled. “What do I do?”

“Be yourself. Be decent. Be happy as you can be without making other people miserable to do it. Feel the pain and move on and don’t let it make you into a monster.”

Mel smiled up at him warmly. “Like you.”

“Me?”

“You never take advantage of other people to make yourself feel safe. Hm...but you did try to induce Heather to vomit. So, keep doing half of what you’re doing.” Mel’s smile fell. “I wonder if there was anything I could say to make her feel better…”

“For a bit, maybe. And don’t think hard on Davis. He made a mistake and got involved with the wrong people. It’s not your fault, what happened to him. And your brother was an accident.”

“I know. Isn’t it crazy? I know, but I still feel bad. How nuts is that?” Mel laughed and nuzzled into his hand. “Jason, I owe you an apology. I’m about as useful as every other adult in this shitty town. I’m just as...I’m just as…”

“No you’re not. Unless the next thing out of your mouth is ‘amazing’, I don’t wanna hear a peep outta you.” J. D. shed his jacket. “As a matter of fact, light’s out. You need some time to process, that’s all. And no more drinking, at least tonight.”

“Fine.” Mel’s voice was muffled; the trench coat was covering her head. “You shouldn’t smoke so much. This thing stinks.”

“You’re welcome.” J. D. smirked before flipping the light off. “And maybe you should drink less, at least when you’re like this.”

“I’m fine. Just woozy.” Mel popped her head out of the jacket. “Jason?”

“‘Sup?”

“Are you leaving?”

“Just to the living room. Why?”

Mel sat up a bit, fingers tight around the coat’s collar. “It’s just...after I heard about Heather, I had this awful dream.”

“What happened?”

“You left for the night...and in the morning I heard y-you killed yourself. And you took my whiskey too for some reason.” Mel scratched her cheek. “So...I don’t...would you mind just staying up with me for a bit longer until I’m ready to sleep?”

“You realize that’s not going to actually happen right?”

“I know it sounds crazy, but I’m terrified to fall asleep. And after tonight, I feel like it’s even more possible I’ll wake up and find out you died or something.” Mel sighed and shook her head. “I-I’m sorry Jason, I just feel like everything’s coming apart and-and there’s nothing I can do-”

“Scoot over and don’t hog the blanket.”

Mel blinked rapidly, shocked speechless as J. D. took the meager space next to her; he rolled over on his side and pulled the other half of the blanket over his waist.

“Do you want the light on?” J. D. had his fingers on the lamp light switch.

“I...you don’t have to do this. I’ll probably knock you out of the bed.”

“Lights on or off?”

Mel could see J. D. wasn’t about to argue with her.

“Off I guess.”

The room went dark.

 _“Is this what a tomb is like?”_ Mel winced; she hated thinking like this, especially when drunk. She had no control over where her thoughts led as it was, but the alcohol made it worse.

“Mel? Are you cold?”

“I’m fine kid. I’m sorry.”

“God you’re a broken record.” J. D. rolled over to face the wall; if he kept facing her, he knew he’d be too tempted to reach over and hold her.

He had never seen someone so broken since his mother. The few minutes Mel held that knife in her hands with the utmost calm was the most terrifying in his life.

_“It’s me. I made her feel this way. I made her almost...I’m just as bad as him.”_

J. D. grit his teeth and dug his fingers into the pillow; it couldn’t be true. Everything he was doing was for Mel. She wanted to be with him; Heather was a nuisance, a toxic influence. Davis had turned out to be even more underhanded then he had assumed. If anything, he had saved Mel from getting involved in criminal activity; planting weed on a date rapist was nothing compared to the things that Davis would get her into. It was as if the universe wanted him to take out the trash.

Mel might feel broken now, but it was all for her own good. It was a process and J. D. could foresee the ultimate outcome clear as day.

_“I made her cry. I made her want to kill herself.”_

J. D. tried to listen to Mel’s slowed breathing and block out these thoughts.

_“I didn’t. I didn’t hurt her. They did. It’s their fault for getting in the way of our future. They’re keeping her away from me, they were just mixing her up. But I’m here now. Mel’s just being over emotional and she’s drunk. In the morning, it’ll be better.”_

It didn’t cross his mind that she had been happy just a couple of days ago. In J. D.’s mind, how could Mel possibly be happy without him? If he was miserable, and she loved him, then she couldn’t look half as happy as she seemed.

“Happy Halloween.” Mel’s voice floated into his mind.

“Back at you.” J. D. said. “I’m sorry Mel.”

“Me too…”

“You know I’m here for you. I mean it, anything you need, tell me.”

J. D. felt her shaky hand pat his shoulder.

“I know. Thank you.” the hand pulled away and Mel let out a long yawn; it seemed that she had come out of her state of shock. At least from what he could tell. “Night Jason, love you.”

“Sleep tight.”

J. D. breathed in and out and willed himself to think about it all in the right perspective.

_“Just go to sleep, Mel. This will all seem like a bad dream soon enough.”_


	23. Just as Well for All I've Seen

“Don’t you think this is all kinda scary?” Martha glanced up at Veronica as she nibbled on a Cherry Vine lazily. “First that guy working for the mafia gets a hit on him and then it’s like, bam, all of a sudden Heather just decides to…” she looked around worriedly as if people were eavesdropping for offensive conversations, “You know…”

Veronica shrugged and leaned back against the counter where the donut case rotated fresh pastries and the coffee makers dripped slowly. She and Martha had decided to hang out and wind down at the 7-Eleven; the school year wasn’t even halfway through and it seemed everything was being turned on it’s head at Westerberg High.

“If I hear Mrs. Phelgm talk to one more interviewer, I’ll barf.” Veronica chewed slowly on her candy, looking out of the corner of her eyes at the sliding door entrance every so often. “You’d think Heather Chandler offing herself would have made things a little better around there.”

“Veronica!” Martha’s mouth gaped open, nearly causing the piece of corn dog she had just bit off to fall on the floor.

“Oh come on, I’m not saying it’s a good thing, but I’m not going to act like Heather did everyone a favor by making school hell.” Veronica told her, crossing her arms defensively. “Her note said she was sorry, right? Maybe she thought she actually would be doing everyone a favor.”

“I...I’m not going to pretend Heather was a good person, but I never wanted her dead.” Martha said quietly, looking around at the other few teens occupying the aisles. Of course, they were all buzzing with a similar subject. Martha looked at her half eaten corn dog with a troubled frown. “Do you think it really hurt? I mean, what’s it even feel like to get shot?”

“Excuse me ladies.”

“Oh, hey J. D.-uh, sorry.” Veronica moved aside quickly so he could get to the donut case; she offered him a smile she hoped he would return, but he seemed too preoccupied with the pastry selection to even look her way.

“And to answer your question, it hurts like a bitch. Though I’ve heard some people say they barely feel a thing.”

Martha stared at J. D. in vague confusion. “What is?”

“Getting shot. Some people are in shock when it happens, so they don’t feel it right away.” J. D. explained cordially as he took the tongs and a napkin from the dispenser. “I’m willing to bet Heather Chandler barely felt a thing though; if the facts are facts, she died instantly right?”

“How do you know about that stuff?” Veronica sidled over, pretending to look over the donuts herself; she wished she had seen him come in so she’d have time to think of something more witty and charming to say. Or at least touch up her gloss.

“I have my sources.” he sent her a brief wink before going back to the heated glass case.

Veronica was feeling ecstatic; this was the most her crush had said to her since he arrived in the cafeteria, strolling in with a book, a cool smile, and a cool attitude that seemed to separate him from the havoc at Westerberg.

Martha on the other hand looked sick. “I can’t even imagine doing it at all, especially not that way. What if something went wrong?”

“Maybe Heather would just have gotten brain damage.” Veronica supplied. “Or maybe amnesia. Then she could relearn how to be a decent human being.”

“Guess the world will never know.” J. D. shrugged and carefully wrapped the chocolate frosted crullers in the napkins. “Well, pardon me.”

Veronica opened her mouth to say something more, but J. D. was already gone and making his way to the counter to buy his snacks. The woman working there rang him up; to Veronica’s surprise, J. D. handed her one of the donuts. The woman took it with a faint smile that disappeared as soon as it came.

Martha was busying mulling over J. D.’s words. “You know what the worst thing is?”

Veronica snapped her attention back to her friend. “Sorry, what?”

“Well, I was just thinking, you’d think Heather and Heather would be more sad. They were all best friends, but Heather Duke is acting like Heather never existed and Heather McNamara is just going along with it all.”

“It’s not like they were best friends how we are. Those three would back stab each other in a heartbeat.” Veronica said as she nibbled on one end of her candy thoughtfully as she snuck glances at J. D.; he had gone around the counter and was actually sitting on a small stool usually reserved for the employees to use while they waited for the next customer. He was talking more than Veronica had ever seen him do at school. The woman would nod and offer a brief smile now and then. As Veronica looked at her, the ache of envy was accompanied by a stab of pity; the woman’s stare had a faintly sad and vacant quality to it. The donut was left untouched on it’s napkin.

“Earth to Veronica? Be careful, he might see you staring like that.”

Veronica blinked and swiftly moved her gaze back to Martha’s teasing grin. “I honestly doubt that. It’s like he had tunnel vision.”

“Really?” Martha peered over briefly. “Wow, she let him sit in the back.”

“Great. I meet a guy who isn’t a complete tool, and he likes older women.”

“Well, just because she’s letting him hang out behind the counter, doesn’t mean they’re dating.” Martha said rationally.

But Veronica knew better. If she had to sum up the way J. D. was gazing at the cashier, it would be intense, the kind of smolder girls only dreamed of being given. When he had ceased talking to eat his donut, his eyes were still glued on the cashier’s face, sometimes skirting over her body while she stared out at nothing. Veronica had the idea she could go right up to him and bang a huge pair of cymbals while blowing on a whistle and prancing around in a skimpy leopard skin bikini and it wouldn’t get J. D. to glance over.

“Yeah, you know, she might be a family friend or something.” Martha said assuredly.

“I appreciate it Martha, but I really don’t think you’d check out your parent’s friends that way unless they looked like John Stamos.”

“You could ask him.”

“Huh?”

Martha looked around like she was distracted before gesturing covertly to J. D., who was making his way back to them. Veronica swallowed and tried to give him a smile that said, ‘Oh hey, what’s up? I’m available in case you were wondering’, without being too obvious. Luckily Martha was a lot more outgoing and took the liberty of breaking the ice once more.

“Hey, do you know the cashier here?”

Veronica waited with bated breath as J. D. went straight to the Slurpee machine and began getting himself a cup.

“Yes indeed.”

“She’s nice. I think she’s been working here since me and Veronica were in middle school.” Martha commented blithely as she sent Veronica a look, internally telling her to make a move.

“I don’t doubt it.” J. D. said conversationally enough, but he was still not looking at them while he began filling up one of is cups with red slush. After putting a lid on it, he took another cup and began using the lemon dispenser.

“Are you two a thing?” Veronica wished in that moment she had the power to turn back time. On one hand, J. D. was looking right at her point blank. But the way he was looking suggested he thought her an idiot.

“A thing?”

“Uh, yeah…sorry, I didn’t mean to be nosey.” Veronica offered an apologetic smile as her stomach twisted into pretzels.

“We don’t have a ‘thing’.” J. D. chuckled with what sounded like a bit of condescension before capping the other Slurpee and dipping in a straw. “No, what we have can’t be described with locker room lingo.”

“Sounds serious.” Martha was a bit taken aback but tried to smooth things over with a friendly smile.

J. D. took his slushies and shrugged. “What can I say? Our love is god.”

Without another look in their direction, he was off to the counter, walking around the side and plopping back on the stool; the cashier mustered a smile and took the Slurpee handed to her before her face resumed a vacant mask.

Veronica turned to Martha. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Um...maybe it’s from a book or something.” Martha didn’t appear convinced herself. “Well, sorry anyway. I know you liked him.”

“Yeah.” Veronica gave her a half smile. “Easy come, easy go, right? At least I’m put out of my misery wondering.”

“Do you still want to watch ‘The Princess Bride’? You know, what with it being a romance and all?”

“It’s cool. Besides, I know it’s your favorite.” Veronica nudged her in the side playfully. “Come on, let’s get going. We can sneak in a croquet match before it gets too dark.”

“You’re on!”

Mel blankly watched the girls walking side by side out of the store; she assumed since they were talking to J. D., they were also high schoolers.

 _“It would have been nice to have a friend like that after…”_ Mel stopped her train of thought right there and took a sip of her drink; it felt nice going down her mostly healed throat, but she could only take sips at the time being. Her gut was churning. Mel had already had quite a few close calls that day where she had scurried off to the bathroom; thankfully half of those were false alarms.

“Hey kid, would you mind grabbing a snack over there?” Gary poked his head through the entrance to the enclosed space where J. D. was sitting. “I need to talk with Laney.”

“Yeah, sure.” J. D. hopped down from his stool, sending Mel a quick smile before going back to the Slurpee machine for a refill. Since Sheila had eventually managed to calm down her husband on the subject of J. D. 's screw up, he had made sure to tread lightly around the older man. For now.

Gary sighed and crossed his arms. “Are you pregnant?”

Mel stared up at him with unconcealed bewilderment.

“I’m just asking. Shelly told me you’ve been having trouble keeping things down the past couple days. And you were dating that guy...”

“Gary, that doesn’t mean I’m pregnant.” Mel said shortly. “I mean, me and Davis never even-”

She clamped her lips together, feeling her eyes sting and her chin tremble; she turned her face down and stared at her slushie. Gary sighed and ran a hand through his thinning hair.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring that up.”

“...it’s okay.”

“I’m worried. Shelly’s worried. And no offense, but you look like hell.”

“Thanks Gary.” Mel sighed heavily. “I need a drink.”

“No you don’t.” Gary’s voice was almost startlingly stern. “You need to talk to us.”

“What’s there to talk about? My boyfriend’s dead and a girl who saw me as her only real friend killed herself.”

“Yeah and you’re acting like you did it.”

“Gary, I don’t think that, it’s just...I don’t know.” Mel sighed again as she pushed her uneaten donut to the side. “I really don’t know. It’s like...it hurts and I’m sad, but I feel so…”

“Like you’re feeling everything and nothing at the same time?”

Mel nodded silently and Gary returned her nod with a knowing, humorless smile.

“Yeah. When you realize you’re partially responsible for fucking up your kid’s lives, you don’t feel so good every day. But Shelly and me got through it together. Plus, we’re adults.”

“I’m an-”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re twenty four. That’s not that old. You haven’t even lived half your life yet, and trust me, with how shitty your’s has started out, it won’t get easier. I mean it will, but it won’t if you can’t deal with it the right way.”

Mel looked down at her limp hands; she felt an ounce of relief leak back into her. Someone understood. At least she wasn’t completely crazy.

Gary let out a tired breath and sat down heavily on the stool; it creaked under his weight as he reached over to grab her donut. “I will hand it to you, you’re not doing half bad for someone who watched their kid brother die and have their parents basically rue your existence.”

“Rue? There’s that million dollar vocab.” Mel chuckled softly; she stirred the melting Slurpee slowly. “You’re right. You know, I was a mistake. They never meant to have me and if that wasn’t bad enough, I was nothing how they wanted me to be. I guess that’s where it all started. Jason was an accident; he was so scared of ending up like me, he did everything to at least get them to like him.”

“Two accidents? What, these jackasses never heard of rubbers?”

“No. I was a mistake. Jason was the accident.”

Gary snorted and a few crumbs made their way to his chin. “What’s the difference?”

“A mistake you regret. An accident just isn’t deliberate; a mistake is something that went wrong.”

“Don’t talk like that.”

“Why not?” Mel asked brazenly. “It’s true. Gary, all I do is mess up. If Heather really thought she could count on me, she would have gone to me for help. I was completely wrong about Davis...part of me wonders if he ever even really liked me. I let down my whole family. I let down Jason. Where was I when he really needed me?”

“No one could help a girl that gone. Your boyfriend was keeping things from you, bad things, and it’s his own fault he paid for them.” Gary’s voice became gentler as Mel winced. “Jason was an accident.” he took out a lone cigarette from his shirt pocket and fished a lighter from his jeans. “And your parents are trash.”

“I know. I’m serious, I know all that…” Mel took a shaky breath and tried to keep her stomach from churning more. “But why do I still feel awful?”

“You’re not thinking of the things you’ve done good. What about all the help you’ve given me and Shelly here and at the bar?”

“Of course. You took me in.” Mel shrugged. “Besides, you guys do twice as much for me.”

“Okay, okay, how about J. D.? What’s sounds better? Having him spend all his time living with that trigger happy dick who doesn’t have any right to call himself a father or moving in with you and having a stable life?”

“Am I better?” Mel let out a derisive laugh. “I’m a borderline drunk. I never finished school, I’m barely literate, I can’t get over my dead little brother, and I’m using him…”

“What?”

“I know this is insane. I really do want to help Jason, but part of the reason is...I feel like it’s a second chance. They’re so similar sometimes, and he really does rely on me. And as much as it scares me, it...it makes me feel good about myself.” Mel spoke slowly and quietly, as if she were coming to a realization.

Gary was finishing off the donut without restraint. “And you feel bad for that.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah. I don’t deserve to give myself a pat on the back for doing the right thing. I’m not even doing it for the sake of it. I’m doing it because I can’t get over something I didn’t do when I was a kid.” Mel looked up; J. D. was leaning back and drinking a new Slurpee. Usually he would have been done by now, but it seemed he was taking his time. “That’s not fair to him. It’s not healthy.”

“Mel, from what I can see, the kid is doing okay, at least more so than if he was sticking around his old man and having to move on to the next state. He knows he has someone to go to. Shelly swears up and down he’s got a thing for you, and maybe he might, but I also know he depends on you, and that’s what really matters.” Gary smiled at her. “And what’s wrong with wanting to feel good about yourself? Hell, you need to do it more often from what I can see. And quick, before you starve and the foundation isn’t enough to cover those bags.”

Mel truly did smile, although it was only for a moment. “I guess it’s not like I’m getting them confused. I know he’s not my nine year old dead brother. But I still want to look after him….it’s just getting to be so much Gary. I don’t even know how to pull myself together.”

“Two people you cared about just died in ways most people have nightmares about. You held your brother’s hand while he bled out when you were fifteen. You’re gonna be a bit messed up.”

“I can’t stop thinking about it. About how painful it must have been...about what they thought about before...god, where even are they now?” Mel shook her head and sighed. “And were they ever happy?”

“Your brother had you with him. I’m sure it made him feel safe.”

“But Heather...god, how do you even do that? How do you actually pull the trigger, knowing you’re taking your own life?” Mel shuddered. “And Davis...it’s like I never even knew him.....why is all this happening now? Just when I think I’m really doing okay-”

“You get smacked in the face. That’s life.” Gary’s tone wasn’t so much patronizing as it was oddly comforting.

“Yeah. I guess so. You think I’d be used to it after…”

“Mel, do you want to stay over night with me and Shelly?”

“No, I told Jason I’d watch Slushie for him.”

Gary gave her an openly dumbfounded stare.

“His hamster. He moved him in the other day, you know, for when he moves in with me. Jason is going home for a bit tonight and then he’ll be back.”

“Well, alright.” Gary scratched his stubbly cheek and blew out smoke slowly. “By the way, you’re fired.”

“What?!”

“Nah, just yanking your chain.” Gary said with a wide grin. “But I am sending you home early. Tell Orphan Annie to give you a ride home and pull over if you need to throw up.”

“Oh my god, he’s not an orphan Gary.”

“Might as well be.” he shrugged and got up with a stretch from the stool. “But hey, at least he’s not alone anymore, right? So why don’t you try forgiving yourself?”

“Yeah.” Mel smiled after him as Gary strolled out to bring their trash outside to the dumpsters in back; it faded soon after as she began absently stirring her melted slushie. She doubted it could induce a brain freeze.

 _“Now that I think about it….Jason’s been doing that less and less hasn’t he?”_ Mel frowned. _“Jason...maybe...I can’t forgive myself yet, but can’t I at least try to let go?_ ”

“Hey Mel, your stomach still bugging you?” J. D. came up to the counter as Mel was filling out her time. “Need a ride? I’ll go slow.”

“Yeah.” Mel nodded, her glance involuntarily going to his torso.

“Don’t worry about it.” J. D. walked with her outside to his bike; he tossed his empty cup into the garbage and gave her a smile as he handed her his helmet. “I noticed you cut your nails.”

“Yeah.”

J. D. took his spot and started the engine. “What’d you guys talk about?”

“Gary was asking how I was feeling. It’s totally weird you know; I feel starving, but I feel like if I try to eat more than plain toast I’ll just toss it all back up.”

“Don’t force it. Just try to relax.” J. D. didn’t press for more, not wanting to get into why she was feeling stressed enough to not be able to digest anything. He already knew and it was grating. Besides, he was already on edge from Veronica and Martha assuming their relationship was some shallow fling, at least from how he heard it. Mel’s arms coming over his waist made him calm down somewhat; she tried to wrap them around to keep her hands from grabbing his drunken injury.

“I know. Thanks J. D.”

J. D. narrowly missed almost running over the curb, but made no comment. Mel’s cheek was resting between his shoulder blades and her arms felt good despite the rising concern in the back of his mind.

Mel closed her eyes, letting herself enjoy the smooth ride for the time being as she mulled over Gary’s advice.

_“Easier said than done…but I guess we both know that by now.”_


	24. Epiphany

“So....”

The sun was nearly over the horizon completely; Mel had to admit, while that image was pretty enough, there was something a tiny bit unnerving about the cemetery. She had never been to the one in Sherwood before, and she most definitely hadn’t been to any cemetery so close to night. Luckily it hadn’t taken her very long to walk to the area, but then Mel had spent a good half an hour wandering around looking for Heather’s grave; unfortunately, luck seemed to run in short supply that night.

“So.”

Mel leaned back against a large tree, wincing as the bark scratching her back slightly even through her jacket; with a heavy sigh, she stuffed her chapped hands in the pockets for some degree of warmth. The wind was still at least.

“So...hey.” Mel sighed and watched her own breath come out in a puff. “I don’t really know what I’m doing here. I mean, I know, but I don’t really know what to say.” she chuckled humorlessly. “Not like anything I said helped much before. Um, if you’re somewhere out there, wherever...well, I’m sure you probably don’t want to be bugged. Maybe you’re mad at me.”

Each gravestone bore a name unrecognizable to Mel; she only knew so many people who were dead, and while two of them she had met in the area, she wasn’t quite sure if Davis was buried in that particular cemetery. He did lived a bit farther from town, and chances were his family had wanted to take him back down South.

Mel shamefully couldn’t muster the courage to even call his office or home phone to try to get in touch with any of his relatives or friends, and the cops never did contact her for questioning. She guessed no one Davis knew was aware of her. About two weeks of dating might not have warranted him to be so open about their growing relationship, if he meant for it to even last very long.

It occurred to Mel that despite how close they had grown, she barely knew a thing about Davis. At least, she came to this conclusion when it became apparent how many secrets he was keeping. Maybe it was all a lie, though Mel couldn’t figure out why Davis would work so hard to get to know her if he had planned on not getting attached. She liked to think his feelings at the very least weren’t lies.

“Why’d you do it? Because you didn’t have any real friends? Because you pressured yourself into being someone you figured wasn’t worth being anymore? Was it because you felt sorry about it all or was it just too much to handle?”

Mel paused; her mouth felt like cotton. She had been drinking for some time that day, previously managing to buy a bottle of vodka and hiding it inside her coat; she covertly took sips as she walked and now there was hardly more than a quarter left.  And while there might have not been anyone else there, Mel didn’t want to take risks and be arrested for public drunkenness.

“God, what am I doing? At this point I really will end up an alkie.” Mel massaged the bridge of her nose and shook her head to clear the fuzzies. “You know, I always thought a person had to be really smashed to do something like you did. I mean, a gun to the head? I guess suicide is one thing, but what if you didn’t even die? What if you just got brain damage or you aimed wrong and died slow? Were you thinking of that...what did you even think about? Did you think you’d be happy afterward or at least not miserable anymore? Or did you think you’d just completely disappear and it’d be better than having to feel anything?”

Mel didn’t know if there was a heaven or a hell or any sort of afterlife. She didn’t quite know if she believed in ghosts or devils or god or anything not of the world she lived in every day; it was just too tiring to give a lot of thought to. She figured she’d find out once she died and she certainly never, never seriously considered just ending it. What was the point? In her eyes, paradise wasn’t a given, but even so, it didn’t mean life was hopeless. Mel knew that she could still have a chance to make her life a good one, to make others happy and make something out of her poor start, even if everything seemed hopeless. As long as she was still alive, she had that chance.

“Why didn’t you say anything to me? Why did you just disappear and not even say why? And Davis...why did he have to come and make me so happy and then just…”

Mel felt a pang of shame; Davis didn’t ask to be murdered. Heather didn’t kill herself to hurt anyone.

“Well, I’ll cut to the chase if you’re trying to rest in peace and all that….I’m sorry. Not guilty sorry, at least not all guilty. I’m just sorry it had to come to this for you. I wish you felt like you could have come to me. Or maybe you did…” Mel kicked a wet dead leaf off her shoe and hugged her arms close to her shivering body. “Maybe you just didn’t want to. Maybe it wasn’t enough...and that’s a shame, ‘cause maybe later things would have gotten better. Maybe I’m naive...no...I know I’m naive. I guess I’d rather be hopeful, even if there’s no real reason to be. It’s harder for me to let myself be sad. I don’t know why. It’s easier for me to keep going, ‘cause it’s all I can do. I can’t stand to give up, but sometimes it’s better to quit and try something new. But it has to be something that’ll keep you going….not this. This is just nothing. Once you’re dead, you’re just dead.”

Mel couldn’t help smile and rap her knuckles over her own head. “Not that you wouldn’t know that. I bet if you could hear me you’d tell me to shut up and learn how to put on mascara.”

The sun was almost completely sunken down in the sky and only the faintest shades of gold were mixing and fading from the purple and dark blue.

Yes, It was a pretty scene, even for a morbid place.

Mel couldn’t imagine the day when she’d have no choice but to close her eyes for good. She wondered what the last thing she’d see would be when the time finally came; she liked to think Heather at least was able to see something nice before she shot herself, breathing in the last chilly autumn breeze she knew she’d ever breathe and thought twice.

“But what’s done is done. I hope if you are out there somewhere, you’re a little happier. I think I’ll miss you.” she sniffed and chugged down the last drop of the vodka; once it was done burning down her scarred throat, she smiled.

“Heh, you realize now I’ll never get to make you that rum and coke?” Mel choked on the last word as tear sprung from her eyes; she slapped a hand over her mouth hard enough to cause pain to her front teeth that was only dulled from her half drunk state.

“Oh wow...sorry...it usually takes longer for me to have an emotional break down.” Mel swallowed the lump constricting her windpipe and smiled to herself. “I hope these are okay.”

The fake bouquet of mums were stuck in the dirt by the base of the tree; the bright orange and yellow and red tones made a contrast with the mossy bark and Mel couldn’t help grin drunkenly as she forced them into the nearly frozen ground.

“Pretty….ah, sorry, couldn’t find only red ones.” Mel almost fell getting back up, her hand patting the tree inconsequentially before she turned to to cemetery entrance. For a moment she thought of lingering for a bit longer, but her throat was feeling clogged and her vision somewhat blurred. Besides, what more was there to say?

“Bye Heather.”

She still was divided on whether to seek out Davis’ grave; for one, his body might be back with his family, and while she had thought of trying to contact them, it seemed inappropriate. Mel had barely known Davis, and even then, maybe she didn’t really know him at all. She supposed she could just wander aimlessly and look for his name. At any rate, Mel wasn’t sure if she’d be able to stand either one at the moment; she half walked, half staggered home, glad no cops were driving by and no one had hassled her on the journey.

_“I have to stop this. I can’t keep doing this, not after tonight...just one more night….”_

The first thing she did once she got home was open a new bottle of whiskey and cover herself with the pink quilt and pray her brother was not able to see her as she was wherever her might be now.

Meanwhile, J. D. was busy having his own say, though it was not quite what he had envisioned; he had already transported the majority of his things to Mel’s house by that day. Truth be told, he only had so many things of real importance to take with him; a few books, his school things, a few clothes, his mother’s picture, and his spare gun.

“Getting a head start on packing pop?”

Bud leaned against the door frame, paper in one hand and reading glasses perched on his nose. J. D. shrugged and put his hands in his pockets with a grim smile. Part of him was hoping to just leave without a word, but then, the idea didn’t completely sit right with him. For one, while J. D. was eighteen, Bud could still fill out a missing person’s ad, and the last thing he wanted was to cause Mel trouble or get himself on the authorities radar in any way.

That being said, J. D. wasn’t entirely sure what he was feeling at the moment. As his father stood there with a plastered on smile and spoke to him about the school registration form he would need send in, J. D. had already decided this would be the last time they spoke.

Did he hate his Bud Dean? If J. D. had to be honest with himself, he’d have to say he wasn’t sure if he even liked his father that much, let alone loved him. He couldn’t say for sure whether Bud felt more than a vague sense of parental obligation toward him or even if he cared much at all when the day was done.

Even so, he had spent his whole life living with him, or at least learning to. There were good times now and then. Days he would take J. D. to work or show him videos and pictures of his job with pride. Why would he want his son involved at all if he didn’t want some form of approval? The question was, did Bud keep up the semblance of fatherly affection and civility to ease his own conscious over the past or because he knew J. D. was the only person in his life who could stand him?

J. D. wondered if someone like his father could ever love anyone without it being toxic or all take and no give. Would there ever be a day where they could be equals, where they could forget the past and bond and become real family instead of the facade they had built over the years?

But J. D. realized that now he would never know; he picked up his suitcase and turned to his father, who continued to speak with apparent disdain as he went over the paper.

“You’re eighteen now, right? Hell, might as well start helping out around here and come to work with me. You know enough to start, we’d just have to get you a CDL license and bam. What do these egghead asshole know anyway?” Bud voiced his opinion not for the first time on the school board and teachers and the idea of formal education in general. “A man doesn’t need to go to school if he wants to make an honest living. And with you making your own money, you can start paying your own way around here.”

“I can do you one better.” J. D. smiled thinly. “I was actually planning on staying here.”

Bud slowly looked up, fingers going to take off his reading glasses; he took his time folding them into his dirty work shirt pocket, staring at his son as if he had only just noticed his presence.

“Stay here? In shit town?”

“Yeah, that’s the idea.”

Bud smiled humorlessly. “And uh, are you expecting me to pay for you to have your own place here? What, you live rent free and trash up a place I pay for? That the gist?”

“I’m going to stay with a friend. I’ll get a part time job.” J. D. said genially enough; he just wanted to leave. _“I never asked you for anything.”_

“Is that so?”

“I was going to move in today.”

Bud nodded; he looked down at the paper in his hands. Suddenly, he crumpled it up and tossed it into J. D.’s trash bin.

“Well, then you better get going.” Bud snorted and hocked a wad of spit in the bin before turning away, steps heading toward his own room. “Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out.”

J. D. felt his jaw clench, but he willed himself silent as he watched his father go; the tension was slowly draining out of his body. He did look around the house one last time. There was nothing there that felt familiar or comforting; he picked up his suitcase for the last time, left his house key on hook nailed next to the front door, and let himself out.

As he mounted his bike, he was expecting his dad to run out and demand him to hand it over; after all, though it was in his name, his dad had been paying for the insurance. Granted,  J. D. was the one to actually mail in the check, make the phone calls, and bother to make sure their bills were paid on time, but it was Bud’s money that supported their expenses. The reason he was given the bike was so he wouldn’t have to worry about driving J. D. around without spending money on a car of his own.

While he drove through the streets, suitcase securely inside in the tail bag, J. D. realized that pretty much any considerate or nice thing Bud had ever done for him could easily be interpreted as something for his own benefit or convenience.

It made him think of his mother. For all Bud’s selfishness and callous disregard, should he have called him out for her? The idea only briefly passed through his mind, but he supposed that was useless. His father would never admit to guilt. In all likeliness, he didn’t feel any guilt or even pain at his wife’s suicide; Mel might have thought he was trying to bury it under beer, destruction, and being constantly on the move, but she always was too optimistic about the intentions of others. Or maybe she just wanted to make him feel a smidge better over the sorry excuse for a father he had been left to deal with.

“Watch it!”

J. D. ignored the man honking his car horn shrilly as he swerved to avoid the bike; he wasn’t aware he was even drifting into the other lane.

It wasn’t so much that he was in a daze that he felt angry, and while a portion of this was due to the long held resentment of his father who fell short in pretty much every way as a parent, the sharpest sting of hot rage was for his beloved deceased mother.

It was her that knew what kind of man she had married, or at least what kind of man she was leaving her only child to be raised by. In a world that was already careless at the best and cruel at the worst, she had left him to the mercy of it all without so much as a goodbye, except for her brief wave farewell.

It wasn’t as if she didn’t have options. She could have divorced Bud, left him and taken J. D. with her. Maybe things would have been rough, sure, but they could survive together. Bud may not have been excessively wealthy or influential, but he certainly made a name and a business for himself and J. D. was certain any court would rule his mother to gain a sizeable chunk of the funds, or at least mandate Bud cut her checks for child support.

But J. D. knew life wasn’t always so fair; perhaps his mother already knew that too well. Maybe that was why she wasn’t strong enough to stay with him. Even so, J. D. knew she did love him, even if she wasn’t able to be the mother he needed; and in that case, wasn’t he enough? Wasn’t knowing that your defenseless son, who was still barely aware of the gravity of death or how to take care of himself, needed her there to provide guidance and affection and some level of normalcy? She had him and he was her responsibility, her kid, and it wasn’t fair to leave him alone when she knew his life was dependent on her’s in many ways.

Was it really so bad? Was he really not enough to stick around for? J. D. drove on for a long while, until he was nearly out of gas; he didn’t want to face Mel like he was, but he knew he would have to adhere to the town’s curfew and go to her sooner or later.

He just felt so angry. Here he was, finally free and he could hardly enjoy it. J. D. just couldn’t shake off the fact of just how unfair it all was. He should have never been driven to such extremes in the first place; his mother should have been stronger and his dad should have treated him better, but they simply didn’t for whatever reasons.

And the worst part was, no one had asked him about it. J. D.’s life was only so rough because it was. There was no concrete rhyme or reason for it all; he was born into an unfortunate situation to unfortunate, unstable, broken people who most likely were not ready at all to take responsibility for another human life. He had no say in the matter and now that he had broken out of his dysfunctional home life, he was the one left to pick up the pieces. Bud would be bitter, but he would move on. His mother was dead and buried and if Mel was right, didn’t even have the mind or soul to even know what he was going through. J. D. had heard in the bible that people who killed themselves went to hell right away; as much as he wanted his mother to be at rest, a small part of him was unsatisfied.

He hoped she saw him suffering in her afterlife. He hoped she saw his pain and anger, his desperation, Heather’s gunshot to the head, Davis’ body being blown into pieces and burnt chunks, everything, so she’d have to face up to what her actions triggered.

 _“Ah, wait. I guess it’s not all her fault.”_ J. D. reminded himself. _“Mel...everything I’ve done since I moved here has been for us. I took care of everyone who’s been a threats already been dealt with. Pop can do what he wants. Mom can keep on sleeping. It’s okay. It’s okay.”_

As empty and angry as he felt, J. D. wasn’t without anything. Not anymore.

He revved his engine and made his bike zoom down the road; it was already late, only a few hours until midnight. He had spent most of his birthday in a daze thinking of how on this very day, he was a legal adult.

Once J. D. parked his motorbike in Mel’s leaf scattered driveway he practically yanked his bag from the trunk and dashed to her front door. After letting himself in, J. D. stopped himself; his hand clutched his suitcase tightly as his eyes surveyed the inside. The living room coffee table had a few glasses and empty beer cans on it’s surface. The air smelled stale and overall interior was only lit from the stove top light in the kitchen.

J. D. made his way to the refrigerator and peered inside with a frown. The only contents were some condiments, a couple backs of Budweiser, a carton of sour smelling milk, two limes, and a cake with his name on it. It was chocolate.

“Mel?”

The bathroom light was on, but when J. D. looked inside the open area, no one was there. The air was somewhat warm and the medicine cabinet mirror was fogged up slightly, so J. D. assumed Mel must have gotten done taking a shower. It had been a few days since he was there and last time he checked, Mel was getting drunk every night, each period of drinking earlier than the last.

“Mel? You changing?” J. D. knocked on her bedroom door but she didn’t answer him. “If she just got done taking a shower, shouldn’t she be awake? Or maybe she passed out from the booze…”

J. D. knocked harder. “Hey, Mel?”

Again, not so much as a peep. A thought ran through J. D.’s mind and almost made him freeze up on the spot.

_“Oh shit...oh shit, what if that drunk idiot poisoned herself?!”_

J. D. banged on the door repeatedly. “Mel?!”

After a few seconds, he threw caution to the wind and burst into the room. Mel was indeed passed out halfway on her bed, towel still loosely wrapped around her body and hair damp and tangled on the pillow. J. D. dropped his bag and rushed over to crouch beside her; he carefully positioned her so Mel was at least completely lying on the bed. With a shaky hand, he touched her neck, trying to find her pulse before his instinct to call an ambulance. To J. D.’s relief, there still was a slow, yet steady beat under his fingers.

“Shit...”

With a heavy sigh, J. D. grabbed one of her pillows and stripped the case off; he used it as a makeshift towel to pat the rest of the excess water from her hair and even attempted to get out a few of the largest tangles, but throughout it all, Mel never stirred. Her shampoo was wafting from her damp hair; J. D. pushed some stray locks from her forehead. The skin there was warm and damp.

“Too warm…” J. D. frowned and put the back of his hand to Mel’s forehead and her cheeks. “You have got to be kiddin’ me...how the hell did you manage to get a fever?”

He had no idea what to do; he could tell she had been drinking, but if Mel was getting sick on top of that, what actions should be taken? J. D. thought of waking her up, but what if what she needed was sleep? Her breathing was fine and she didn’t seem in any immediate harm as long as she wasn’t walking about.

“Great. Just great, you’re out of it now of all days.” J. D. sighed and sat back on the floor, back leaning on the side of the bed. “I really needed you right now Mel. I’m trying to make sense of it all...I was kinda hoping you might have your two cents to throw in.”

J. D. turned his face to look at her; Mel was still peacefully asleep, but her face looked redder than before and her breath sounded like a sort of wheeze. He lightly slapped his hands on his knees and heaved himself up to go to the bathroom.

“Well, if you must know, I’m officially moved in. I told my dad and he all but booted me out the door himself. Couldn’t care less, but he didn’t lose his shit either. It’s not some big surprise but…” J. D. ran a rag under cold water, glancing at his own reflection; he couldn’t say he looked in all that good of shape either, but at least he wasn’t drunk and running a fever. “I guess I was expecting more. Some closure, maybe a fight, a big blow up, but it was like we were strangers.”

He squeezed the rag to rinse out the excess water and tried to make his voice level; he didn’t want to wake Mel up when she needed the rest the most.

“I’m still trying to figure out when you made that cake. I haven’t had anything like that for my birthday since mom-”

J. D. shook his head and folded up the rag; he crouched down at Mel’s bedside once more and carefully dabbed the cloth on her cheeks before placing it over her forehead. He went back to the bathroom to check the medicine cabinet for anything helpful, but all that was in there was hand lotion, half a box of band aids, a flat, rolled up tube of toothpaste, and a lot of lint.

“Well, that’s helpful.”

J. D. rummaged through the drawers.

“Broken comb, deodorant….tampons. Did not need to see that...okay, here’s something,” J. D. held up the bottle of generic brand cold pills. “Empty. Great.”

A creeping feeling began sinking into his chest. What if cold medicine wasn’t enough? It looked like Mel had been doing some hard drinking, not just tonight, but ever since she got the news about the late Heather and Davis. It wasn’t entirely impossible that Mel did get alcohol poisoning from the way she had been going through bottles.

J. D. wanted to laugh. Was this some sort of karmic retribution? Was there really a higher power out in the world that took pleasure in the fact that it was his actions, the ones he believed without a doubt would ultimately benefit him and Mel, were driving her to the brink and possibly on the road to alcoholism?

“This is too rich...why do you care so much Mel? Don’t drink yourself to death over them.”

Mel was still breathing slowly, the rag slipping from her brow; J. D. moved it back and checked to make sure she wasn’t burning up.

“It’s my birthday. Is that why you’re in your birthday suit?” J. D. actually wanted to cringe, but luckily Mel didn’t look to be waking up anytime soon. “Not my best material.” he chuckled and rubbed his own forehead; he felt exhausted.

J. D. had wanted an end to it all, but there didn’t seem to be one, not a real one. It was as if his whole life living with the man who drive his mother to suicide didn’t even happen. Bud couldn’t care less what happened to him from here on out. He had never made any friends.

“Mel...do you get lonely? Do you wish you had a real family? I guess Gary and Sheila are your family now, but you’re kinda keeping them in the dark about this, aren’t you?” J. D. thought of the mess of empty bottles. “I know how it feels you know. Being with your family but not really; they’re there with you and you see them every day, but you might as well be living with a stranger. I think it stopped hurting a while ago, but...I’m pissed off. I wish we had met earlier. I wish I hadn’t wasted all this time when I could have been watching sitcoms and eating junk food with you every night.”

J. D. got up slowly and checked to make sure Mel was still passed out as he patted her cheek repeatedly. No dice.

“No one understands us. No one else knows what needs to be done; I did the right thing. I know it hurts now Mel, but you just have to be patient, okay? It’ll all work out, even if it seems crazy now. Just let me handle it.”

They all deserved to die. Davis, Heather, and more. His father, her sorry excuse for parents, the leftover Heathers. Even Veronica and Martha and all the other social outcasts of his school, of every school, every town; J. D. could only imagine how hard it was for people like them, decent people who could only struggle against the cruel, selfish vultures of the world. His mother had been and the weight of it all had been too much in the end.

Mel was one of them too.

_“So what does that make me?”_

J. D. had fought back. His interests had been threatened and he had fought and removed the threats. He supposed in a sense, he was one of the assholes, but if you did something bad for a good reason, he figured he must still be good enough for Mel.

Better in fact, because he wasn’t going to sit around and take it anymore. J. D. was going to actually _do_ something.

The room was so quiet, aside from Mel’s gentle breathing. J. D. thought of the day she would stop breathing at all. Would she go to heaven? Was there even a place good people went? Or was it a paradise for everyone, somewhere people could finally be at peace? But in that case, why make them live on earth where they were vulnerable to corruption and evil? Why could life on earth be heaven? What would it take to make such a world, if not for everyone, at least for themselves?

J. D. closed Mel’s door and pushed back his hair; he had decided to sleep on the couch. He didn’t think he could be around her in good conscience while she was passed out. It was painful to see Mel in the state she was in, like she was some self pitying drunk.

_“How long has it been since she’s really smiled? I can’t even remember the last time she played her radio. All she does is mope and sleep and drink when she’s not at work. What kind of life is that?”_

But there didn’t seem to be anyone who could tell him the answers to all these questions; there never had been.

_“Well, then they can all piss off. I’m calling the shots now. If the rest of the world wants to screw people over or run and hide, then fine. I’ll make things better for her myself.”_

And so, J. D. came up with his own solution.


	25. You're the Inspiration

“What the hell is this? God, you look like a trashy boozer.”

“I guess I am now.” Mel’s head lolled on the pillow and she felt something cold flop off her forehead and down to her chest as she tried to sit up. A wave of pain nearly made her cry out and she buried her head in her hands. Heather crossed her legs and shook her hair back off her shoulder as she smirked lightly from her perch.  
“You can say that again. Weren’t you bitching to me about drinking? Hypocrite.”

“I said no underage drinking. Not that you listened probably.”

“Oh I listened. I just didn’t do it.”

Mel almost laughed, but the pain in her temples was too much to bear for any more sudden movements. She placed each hand on the sides of her head and rubbed up and down, breathing deeply as she tried to hear through the thrumming in her skull. “Heather, how’d you get in here?”

“Your drunk ass forgot to lock the door. It’s a good thing you didn’t pick up some guy, he’d have you six ways without even trying.”

“Watch it brat.” Mel grumbled.

Heather’s smirk grew thin. “At any rate, you might want to be careful who you let inside.”

Mel raised her eyes, just making out the other girl’s image; one side of her hair was matted with dried blood. Her narrowed and suspicious gaze was sunken in and the well fitted red ensemble was dirtied with wet, dead leaves.

“Hey….are you dead?”

“No shit.” Heather tried to run her fingers through her hair, but it had no effect on the tangles. “Can you lend me your comb?”

“I broke it.”

“Are you for real? What the hell do you do, use a goddamn fork?”

“I...think I broke it this morning…”

Mel felt a spot on the back of her head; she remembered being half drunk and attempting to brush her hair, only for the teeth to get caught in the mess. In her haze she had yanked so hard on the knot, five of the teeth had broken off and a good few bits of her hair had been ripped out of her scalp. The alcohol had distracted her from the sharp sting completely, and right now the throbbing in her brain only served to block out the previous blunder.

Heather rolled her eyes. “You’re hopeless, you know that. A complete space case.”

“I know.”

Heather stared at Mel in slight horror as fat tears began falling from the older woman’s eyes, quote out of nowhere. In seconds Mel was a sobbing, shaking mess on her unmade bed.

“I know...I-I-I-”

“Oh my god, suck it up. I just asked for a comb.”

Mel only sobbed harder. “I’m sorry! I-I know I’m useless, I couldn’t do anything, I didn’t even know you were so sad...”

“Wow, thanks. Could you make me sound more pathetic?” Heather’s mouth was taut as she leaned in her seat, watching passively as Mel covered her mouth with both hands, snot trailing thinly from her nostrils; she grimaced as Mel used the wet rag to wipe her nose.

“I couldn’t...why is this all happening now? God, wasn’t it enough Jason died? Wasn’t it enough my parents hate me? Now the one guy I thought I could really be with turns out to be a criminal and then I let you down. I feel like my whole life just keeps spiraling out of control.”

“So you drink and then you’re in control?”

“No!” Mel said immediately. “It...I just don’t know what to do. I’m going to stop, I just wanted to forget for a bit-”

“So, a bit is nearly half a month of constant boozing? Right.” Heather drawled. “You know, I’m the one who’s dead.”

Mel drew herself up. “Then what are you doing here? I mean...are you a ghost-no, no, hold on.” she laughed lightly. “I’m drunk. I’m probably still passed out and I’m hallucinating out of guilt.”

“Why?”

“Well, I drank…” Mel tried to remember. “I don’t remember, but it was a lot.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Heather said impatiently. “Why do you feel so bad you’ve got to turn into a drunk slob?”

“A lot of things. I feel bad because you counted on me and I couldn’t help you. Heather, there was so much about you I didn’t like...but I think there’s more things you didn’t like about yourself. I knew that, but I never really tried to talk to you about it, I never even stopped to think how serious it all really was. I’m the adult here. I should have done more.

“Mel, shut the fuck up. There’s nothing for you to feel bad about.” Heather sighed and got up off the chair to plop down on the bed with a tired glare. “Look, if I was alive right now, do you think this is what I’d want? You to drink yourself to death from alcohol poisoning?”

Mel raised an eyebrow. “You can be kinda bitchy. I might be wrong, but you don’t seem like the type to not hold grudges.”

“And if I held it against you, I would say so, but I don’t. Did you pull the trigger? Did you put the gun to my head?”

“Well no, but-”

“Shut up, I’m not done.” Heather looked at Mel seriously until she looked satisfactorily cowed into silence. “As I was saying, it’s not your fault I’m dead. You never hurt me, okay? So stop trying to make it out like you’re playing some big role in all this shit. If anything, you’re a bystander.”

“Heather, stop it.” Mel sniffed and blinked her bleary eyes. “You don’t get it; I was a bystander, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t have done more for you. I could have told Gary or Sheila, maybe they could have helped. I took my eyes off my brother for a second and next thing I know he’s gasping for breath in my arms. I shouldn’t have let Jason live here...I should have called DCFS or some shit. He needs real help, not some random lady who barely has her own life together.”

“Is that what you really think?”

“I used to think I had it together...when Sheila threw me a bone, it was like things were finally going my way for awhile.” Mel smiled wanly. “And now it feels like the world is being turned on its head, and it doesn’t make sense.”

“Maybe because of all the plotholes.”

Mel stiffened as another weight made the mattress sink beside her.

“I mean, how is a sixteen year old girl supposed to get a hold of a loaded gun anyway?” Davis mused as he picked at his burns and flicked the soot from his tie. “Melanie, you might not have finished school, but you have good instincts. You should trust them more and not listen to the doubts so much.”

Mel slowly turned her head from the spot where Heather had seemingly vanished from thin air; fresh tears and a spike of pain shot through her chest.

“You...you?! What the hell do you want?”

Davis gave her a half smile. “I deserved that. I would be stupid if I believed you might be glad to see me one last time….but, is it okay if I’m happy to see you?”

Mel turned her gaze to the floor as if she had been staring at the sun. “You lied to me Davis.”

“I never told you I wasn’t involved with...unsavory people.”

“Yeah, you didn’t and if ya ask me it’s the same as lying. You deceived me. You led me on and made me believe you actually-” Mel closed her eyes hard and turned her head away in disgust and shame. “Just go. I don’t want to see you.”

“Melanie-”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I only have so much time.” Davis sounded closer, but Mel didn’t look to see if he was leaning in to speak with her. “I won’t defend what I did. I’ll even go so far as to say that it was bound to happen sooner or later. I knew what I was getting into to, and I was sure I had everything planned out so I’d more or less be able to live a little longer. Well, longer than most yuppies caught up in white collar crimes with people who are leagues above them. I was in over my head from the start.”

“I guess both our plans blew up in our faces.” Mel gasped and brought a hand to her lips. “I didn’t-”

“No pun intended?”

Mel frowned. “What’s with that look?”

“You’re looking at me.” Davis smiled cautiously. “And that was actually pretty funny. If you meant it how it sounded...well, as I said, it’s not uncalled for.”

“Davis, what the hell is going on?”

“I told you, I wanted to see you one last time before...well, I don’t know. Before you wake up...or I do?”

“What you don’t know?” Mel asked.

“I get the strongest feeling you don’t believe in what you’re seeing; would you believe anything I told you at this point?”

Mel took the rag in her hands and put it on the nightstand. “I guess I’m not sure. It depends on what you wanted to say.”

“For now just listen; I know I kept a lot from you, but you need to know, it had nothing to do with how I felt about you. If anything, it only made me cherish you more because deep down I knew we couldn’t last.” Davis gently put his hand over hers. It was as cold and it had the same sensation as fog. “It wasn’t fair to you. I went in knowing all of this while you were in the dark. I knew if we got closer than it’d just be more painful for you.”

“Real fucking nice. So what, you were just going to dump me anyway?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.”

“Add it to the growing list.”

Davis chuckled softly. “I know I meant it when I said I was crazy about you Melanie. I meant everything; if I didn’t, I never would have gotten involved with you in the first place.” he ran a hand through his hair and his smile fell slightly. “It was selfish. For someone who cared about you so much, I didn’t act like it.”

Mel stared at him helplessly. “I think I might have loved you you asshole. You can’t do that. You can’t make someone love you and then just leave them high and dry.”

“Isn’t that what we do everyday? Family, friends, all the people who care about us are going to be hurt when we die.”

“Sure, but you knew you only had so much time. You knew you’d only be able to get so close from the word go.” Mel bit her lip hard and buried her face in her hands, breathing getting shallow as she fought the relentless headache. “You know what’s the worst part? As much as I want to hit you in the face, I still feel bad for you.”

“If you were the kind of person who wanted me to die a fire induced death, I don’t think I would have loved you in the first place.” Davis gently took her hands from her wet face. “Melanie, I wanted to see the woman I fell for. This isn’t her. You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

Mel sniffed and took her hands away slowly. “I can’t be getting advice from two dead people.”

“You smell like a hobo.”

“Shut up twerp, I’m-”

Mel’s jaw dropped; Davis was gone and a smaller set of hands were yanking at her own.

“Mel, mom and dad are going to get mad if you threw up everywhere.” Jason’s worried eyes met her shocked stare.

“Jason, I don’t live with them anymore.”

Jason frowned. “This place smells bad too. Aren’t you supposed to be an adult and clean up after yourself-hey, you’re squishing me!”

Mel just held him tighter. “Call it payback for speeding on that stupid bike.” she pulled back, but only enough to run a hand through his short hair and smile at him through her pain. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I guess. It hurts a bit where the car hit me.” Jason shrugged. “Mel, you said when you grew up you wouldn’t drink a lot.”

“I did?”

“And that we’d move out together.”

“I meant it. I really did Jason, I wanted to go with you. If you hadn’t-if you were still alive, it would have happened.” Mel tried to smile for him. “We would have been happy.”

“You can still be happy you know. I don’t mind.”

“What?”

“It’s okay if you want to be happy now. No one wants you to be sad.” Jason told her simply. “It’s not your fault.”

Mel’s felt a cold touch on her forehead and a weight make the bed dip; when she opened her eyes, she was on her back facing toward the ceiling.

“It’s not your fault…”

Mel blinked and grit her teeth as the pain came shooting through her head once more.

“Don’t move around too much Mel.” J. D. told her with an awkward half chuckle. “Also, uh, don’t sit up. You fell asleep naked and if you get up now the blanket will fall off.”

Mel couldn’t keep her eyes open. “Jas-J. D. what time is it?”

“It’s past noon. Do you need water or something? You got a bit of a fever. I turned on the heat, but you kept shaking…Mel?”

“Sorry...I ruined your birthday. Did you see the cake?”

“You didn’t ruin anything. And yeah. I wanted to wait until you were up to eat it.”

Mel managed a small smile. “That’s sweet, but if you’re hungry go ahead. I haven’t been up to shopping lately.”

“I got some groceries earlier.” J. D. told her. “I moved out last night. My dad didn’t really care.” he frowned as Mel sat up and groaned. “Mel, lay down!”

J. D. stiffened when her arms went around him. “Mel...it’s okay. I’m fine, really.”

“Yeah, you are. You’re a good kid J. D. You deserved a lot better than him...or me.” Mel spoke barely over a whisper. “I’m sorry I made you worry. I swear, this is stopping today. Neither of us deserve this.”

“Just focus on getting better. You’re still burning up and…” J. D. coughed and kept his arms to his sides. “Mel, you’re naked.”

“Oh right, shit!” Mel practically jumped back to the other side of the bed, clutching the blanket to her as J. D. looked down at the ground. His coat slipped off her and to the ground and he bent down to pick it up.

“Sorry. I didn’t stare.”

“No, it’s fine. I know you were just trying to help.” Mel said. “If you hadn’t found me, I might be really sick or worse...thank you J. D.”

“Mel, why do you keep calling me that?”

Mel felt her face burn slightly. “...I thought it might not be fair if I kept calling you Jason when...well, you know.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Okay.” Mel nodded; she knew if J. D. didn’t care, he wouldn’t have brought it up. “I’m gonna grab a shower and get dressed.”

“That’s cool. Do you mind if I go grab a slushie? I won’t be gone long.”

“Of course, take your time.”

J. D. went to the door and made no further comment; it would be the height of awkward if he mentioned only his mother had ever called him that. It was either to the shortened version or his full name, though he supposed it was expected, what with it sounding so familiar to someone else’s famous name.

He definitely didn’t want to say how it made him feel special to her when she called him by his given name, at least not yet, not when Mel was out of sorts and sick.

 _“Talk about bad timing.”_ J. D. lit up a cigarette and sat down on the porch; it was freezing but he hardly felt it. _“But at least she was smiling. I’ve got a lot of work to do to keep her happy like that.”_

Part of him enjoyed playing the role of nurse in a way; to have Mel depending on him for everything was an ego boost like no other. It just solidified the idea she was way better off with him there and looking out for her. The fact that her current condition was almost entirely due to his actions was barely a passing thought.

_"No one needs you more than I do."_

The will power it took to keep from touching Mel more than necessary had been torture, but he kept reminding himself that it wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying to kiss her or do anything else if she wasn’t even responsive. It was of the utmost importance Mel trusted him and J. D. wasn’t about to take any chances, not when there was still so much to do.

J. D. chuckled to himself and flicked his finished cigarette in the bushes. He had business to attend to.


	26. In the Shape of a Heart

“I love my dead gay son!”

J. D. leaned over to Mel to whisper in her ear. “How do you think he’d react if his son had a limp wrist with a pulse?”

The second Mel turned to look at him, J. D. knew he had said the wrong thing.

Killing Kurt and Ram had been too easy. For one thing, everyone and their grandmother knew they were stupid and perpetually controlled by their dicks, a fact that J. D. all but jumped on to put his plan into gear. When he had heard them briefly guffaw through mouthfuls of crap cafeteria food about how awesome a three-way with the hot lady at the 7-11 register would be, they had made their first offense, which was more than enough to have J. D. out for their blood.

Secondly, they were a waste of space; dumb, narrow minded homophobic tools who took advantage of girls with booze and their high school VIP status were deserving of worse than a couple bullets to the chest in J. D.’s opinion. Even bullets felt like a waste, but it was the most efficient way J. D. could think of to dispose of them.

A couple of days earlier while Mel was still trying to sleep away her pneumonia and leftover symptoms of binge drinking, J. D. had been busy convincing Ram and Kurt, in a secluded classroom after school with no witnesses, that he himself was acquainted with Mel and that she had expressed her desire for a menage a trois. The two teens listened with some skepticism and restrained hostility, as they all weren’t on particularly good terms, but the second they heard of the possibility of living out a fantasy with an older, attractive woman, no bribe needed, they were all ears. J. D. patiently explained that Mel was willing, but simply worried about getting herself in hot water for having relations with two men just barely legal to hook up with.

As much as Kurt and Ram would have loved to brag about the conquest, they agreed to meet up at the cemetery at dawn in secret; after all, if they managed to keep their mouths shut, J. D. swore Mel would be more than happy to keep an ongoing, mutually beneficial relationship with the two of them. Why ruin a great arrangement when it seemed nowadays they could hardly get any action, especially with all the chaos happening in the school after Heather Chandler’s suicide? The hottest girl in Westerberg had bit the dust, and Ram and Kurt were more than eager to get experience with a seasoned woman who was old enough to buy them beer; Ram had pointed out, to J. D.’s barely restrained irritation, that they might even get free snacks from the 7-11 if they were banging the lady working there.

Yes, he had wanted to kill them then and there, was fantasizing about it over and over as he discreetly purchased the necessary items at a mini mart at the edge of town to plant by Kurt and Ram’s corpses. He had only so many bullets leftover and a few guns in his secret collection; he didn’t want to risk using the untouched one from Mel’s closet, just in case she saw it missing, though he was sorry to have to leave the glock at the scene of the “double suicide”.

But oh, was it worth all the irritation to see the looks on their faces when he had come out from behind a tree just as they arrived in the location he had told them to come to; Kurt had tried to make a lunge for him in blind fear and anger, probably still in shock from what had just transpired, but it was useless. J. D. drew out the other gun and shot with little effort and before he could blink, the other boy was lying on his back, a clean shot through his windpipe.

J. D. wished he could have stepped on his neck to prolong the pain, but he couldn’t risk leaving a boot print; Ram had gone down immediately with a bullet to his head, but Kurt was still twitching and gasping, tears in his wide eyes. J. D. wondered if he was silently begging to let him keep his life; what a sorry, rotten life it must have been. He smiled as he pulled the trigger to Kurt’s head; he wasn’t just doing the world a favor, he was doing the other a service for putting him out of his misery and ending his self destructive ways. Once he was sure they were dead, J. D. positioned the guns near Ram’s dominant hand; after all, Kurt couldn’t shoot himself twice. Then he spent a couple minutes arranging the issue of Playgirl in Ram’s back pocket along with a mineral water inside his jacket. Kurt was granted a note of farewell with the implication of their ‘special’ relationship in letters cut out from the magazine itself, as well as a CD of Judy Garland. J. D. was home before Mel could even wake up and give him a sleep smile, asking if he slept well.

The funeral was a pretty decent turn out for two scumbags; their families had invited not only their relatives, coworkers, and friends, but any students or faculty of the school that Ram Sweeney and Kurt Kelly had given so much to with their dedication to the football team were allowed to attend. J. D. was going to avoid suspicion; Mel had insisted on going with him despite her weakened and frail state to not only give him support, but to give her respects. Unbeknownst to him, Mel did not forget Kurt’s momentary glimpse of good will when he lent her his own prized jacket, regardless of her refusal to sleep with him. Despite her distaste for them, she could not forget and she could not ignore the obvious and genuine sorrow of some of the funeral attendees.

When the service was over and done, Mel got up without a word to J. D., not taking his offered hand to help her up as she walked out of the chapel. J. D. followed her close and a little bit behind, wishing he could hold her around her shoulders or take her arm in his. He could see her legs faltering just so as well as he could see the sickly paleness of her face from the side of her profile; her excessive drinking had caused the burns in her esophagus to become irritated and even swell slightly. It pained him Mel wouldn’t even look at him when he had done all this for her, so the world could be a better place, so they could be together without any interference.

Outside on the street her heels clicked ominously and the skirt of her dress blew in the cold wind; black didn’t suit Mel at all. J. D. had heard some girls discussing things at lunch concerning “appropriate” seasonal colors and what they should bust out for their funeral attire; for whatever reason, some douche in Europe had decided only dark colors were fit for winter and funerals. In J. D.’s opinion, it all sounded stupid; if girls were only supposed to wear bright colors in summer, who cared? Why not wear loud patterns and bright pink to a funeral? It’s not like it would bring anyone back from the dead.

 _“Mel looks so good in stuff like that.”_ J. D. hated how the charcoal black emphasized her pallid complexion and the dark circles just under her weary eyes.

All he wanted for her to go back to listening to her blaring rock and roll and laughing and ruffling his hair and smiling with somewhat crooked teeth due to her parents neglecting to bother to give her braces.

All J. D. wanted was for her to be happy with him again but here she was, lips quivering in barely concealed anger and her eyes only brightened by the flash of anger she had sent his way the second his statement had left his mouth. Mel had still not so much as looked at him once they were in her house.

 _“Our house now.”_ J. D. was somewhat disappointed to have Mel’s room; a tiny part of him had hoped she would act on her feelings and ask him to share it with her. Currently she was using her bed to rest and recuperate, but Mel told him once she was better, she wanted him to have it and she’d use the new fold up couch Gary had bought her when he found out J. D. was officially moved in. The sleeping arrangements could be better, but J. D. still felt content that every morning and every night they would see each other; they were so close to becoming one, but now Mel was borderline furious with him.

“Mel?”

Mel was in her room, supposedly changing, but she had told him an hour ago not to come in. Surely she didn’t take an hour to switch into her nightdress; J. D. knocked on the door gently and leaned in to hear her voice, but there was only silence. A cold pit of anxiety was settling in his stomach; she had never ignored him before.

J. D. waited a few minutes until his legs were starting to tingle from beginning to fall asleep; when his nerves couldn’t take it anymore, he slowly began to open the door. When Mel didn’t reprimand him, he opened it all the way and peered inside. Mel was sitting on the edge of the bed, her brother’s broken headphones in her light grip.

“Mel? Are you mad?”

She didn’t look up at first, seeming to gather herself before addressing him with a soft yet chillingly angry tone.

“I can’t believe you. Jason, what the hell is wrong with you?”

J. D. tried to look serious but innocent. “It was just a joke. You got to admit, how do you think Ram and Kurt’s pops would feel if they came out and were alive?”

Mel’s eyes flashed. “What you did was just cold hearted. For god’s sake, the man was crying, sobbing in front of dozens of people with his son dead in a casket.” she paused, her voice cracking and weak from the soreness of her throat. “There was a little girl just a few rows ahead of us. She heard you. She turned to look at us, and she was crying.”

J. D. didn’t utter a word as tears sprung to Mel’s eyes.

“How can you be so-?” Mel closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “Jason, after everything I’ve told you, I just can’t believe you would act that way. After all you know about how much it killed me inside to lose someone, not once, but three times, and you would make such a nasty comment at a funeral for someone’s son and brother….I’m more than mad. I’m disgusted.”

The pit in J. D.’s stomach sank and weighed him down like a ton of lead. He wasn’t about to cry, but his throat was tight and his hands were shaking in his pockets as he tried to find something to say. For once, he couldn’t think of anything to say, not even an apology. Mel wouldn’t stand for it; she’d just say the ones he should be apologizing to were the families of the now dead Kurt and Ram who he had insulted.

“You have every right to think whatever you want Jason, but that’s the thing. There’s a time and a place; if that’s how you felt, why the hell did you even go to the funeral?”

“Everyone was. I guess you could say morbid curiosity.”

Mel shook her head. “I know you didn’t like them. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think those two were a couple of shits, but that’s beside the point. There were people who did care about them and you go to their funeral and make sick jokes while they’re trying to grieve. The worst part is that I’d think you would have at least care how I might have felt. You know I-”

J. D. rushed to Mel’s side as she began hacking and sputtering, her hands immediately yanking the small trash can to hold under her mouth. Her coughing was like a death rattle and J. D. felt a chill go through him as he pulled back her hair and lightly rubbed her back. His actions had made her push her breathing; she really shouldn’t have even gone to the funeral, the winter chill was horrible for her condition. Mel had mainly gone for his sake and he had gone an upset her to nearly vomit what little was in her stomach.

It was peculiar really. The act of murdering two classmates in cold blood, muddling their reputations after the fact, watching as the few people who genuinely cared wept and mourned together, seeing a child’s heartfelt tears over the pain of her loss, even staring into the eyes of one of the deceased as they silently pleaded for mercy did not move J. D.’s heart in the slightest.

But the very idea of Mel thinking badly of him and scolding him, even though he knew she would find it in herself to forgive his actions, was more than he could handle as a wave of guilt tinged with self loathing hit him as she struggled to breathe.

“Mel, I’m sorry, okay? You’re sick...let’s not fight, you need to rest-”

“I’m fine.” Mel said shakily as she raised her head; she took a tissue from the box on her nightstand and wiped the spit from the corners of her mouth.

“You should drink something.”

“I have water still.”

J. D. tried to smile as she laid back down but it fell once she turned to face away from him; he found one of her cassettes and popped it into the tiny radio. Jackson Browne began to croon out of the speakers, but Mel didn't even stir.

_"I guess I never knew, what she was talking about....I guess I never knew what she was living without...~"_

“I’ll make you some tea for your throat.”

“It’s okay Jason. I don’t want any.”

“I could get you juice. We still have soup, which kind do you want me to heat up?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You should eat something.”

“Jason, I just want to sleep.”

J. D. was growing frustrated. “You’re the one being pretty damn childish right now Mel. I said I was sorry.”

“I know.” Mel told him sadly, the slight tremble in her voice letting him know she was trying to hold back tears. “But you don’t mean it. You’re only sorry because it made me upset.”

“Of course,” J. D. said. “Mel, I’d never want to-”

“You shouldn’t be saying things like that at all. You should be sorry because it was a rotten thing to do.” Mel said quietly. “But I’m not your mother. God knows I have no right to give you lectures. But that’s how I feel.”

“Mel, are you mad at me?”

“No. I’m more disappointed. I... I feel like I…”

“Come on, it’s me! Mel, you know me, I was just kidding, really. It was an asshole thing to say, but those guys beat me up not that long ago; hell, they’ve said things three times as bad. I know it wasn’t the time, but I never meant to upset anyone….especially you. I wasn’t thinking Mel.” J. D.’s tone unwillingly took an almost pleading quality as Mel kept silent. “You know me. Mel, talk to me…”

_"Wait around for the one who fits like a glove. Speak in terms of belief and longing, try to fit some name to their longing...~"_

J. D. took her shoulder and gently made her turn in place so he could see her expression; Mel’s eyes were cast down and dull.

_“Why is she upset?! What, because Kurt Kelly did one goddamn decent thing in his whole life and let her borrow his stupid fucking jacket? Who cares?! She doesn’t even know his family, why does she give a shit? Now she thinks I’m this awful person when all I did was make one comment and it’s totally true. They’re the dirtbags, they’re the ones who deserve the cold shoulder-hell, they deserved to be strung up by their balls and left for the fucking birds!”_

Why should Mel show her compassion for someone if it meant he would get yelled at? Why should she cry over the pain of people she hardly knew? Her empathy wasn’t justified at all, and presently it was only serving to drive a wedge between them.

His rage simmered down as tears escaped Mel’s eyes; he couldn’t stand to be angry with her, not when she was so weak and exhausted. Over the past week she had barely gained any weight, hadn’t been able to keep down anything solid, not to mention her fever had only just broken. Even walking to the next room was a labour that left her wheezing and struggling to breath evenly. She woke up several times during the night, either from her running nose or her clogged, hurting throat. J. D. would bring her water and she’d drink ravenously, but it was the only thing she could consistently keep down.

But it was more than being ill; he knew Mel was still distressed and wounded.

“Don’t cry...don’t cry Mel, please don’t cry, I’m sorry.” J. D. carefully brought her up to his chest, his hand petting her hair and his arm around her securely as she sat frozen. Mel’s gaze was foggy, as if she didn’t recognize him.

_“It’s this place. All these people here, this shit town. It’s killing her. Mel’s always been too soft. Too much has happened, she’s completely stressed and freaked.”_

“Jason...I wish I knew better. I wish I could change how you think sometimes. It...it worries me.”

“Do you still love me?”

J. D. felt the question he wanted to ask leave his mouth without him meaning for it to; he held his breath and tried to make his touches more caring, tried to hide how much he was longing for her and held her as a comforting friend might.

“Of course!” Mel’s voice was so faint, but he could still hear her incredulity and saw a tiny bit of focus come into her eyes. “Jason, if I didn’t care about you, I wouldn’t give two shits about how you think. I just...I’m not feeling well. And that little girl...I still remember how I felt when Jason died. She looked so sad, and she was just a little girl; my world was destroyed when it happened, and I wasn’t as young. I can only imagine…”

“Mel, I love you.”

J. D. spoke in one hushed breath; Mel watched him with unseeing eyes.

“I love you. Mel, I can’t-I’m sorry. I can’t...I can’t stand it. I can’t deal with this. It’s killing me.” he stroked her cheek with a shaky smile. “I love you. Only you. I don’t think I even knew what that meant before, but it’s the truth.”

“Jason-”

“No. Let me talk.” J. D. cupped her face and drew her close; her body felt feather light now and it made a stab of pain go through him to feel just how weak she really was. “I know I’m young to you, but I’m not stupid. You know it, and I know it. All I ever think about is how I can help you and make you a little less sad. I’d make you happy Mel. I’d do anything for you, and don’t think that’s just bullshit, ‘cause it’s not. I fucking swear, I’d do anything.”

The timing was horrible. Mel was ill, he had only just moved in, and she was having doubts about the kind of person he was. J. D. fought the dread swelling in his chest as Mel stared at him blankly, mouth slightly gaping; suddenly, her head dropped against his chest as if meaning to hide her expression.

_"And I held it in my hand for a little while, and dropped it into the wall...let it go, heard it fall..."_

Yet with this anxiety and fear came a sense of relief. He didn’t think he could say it enough, how much he loved her, and he had wanted to say it for what felt likes years in his mind. She was so frail and vulnerable and all he wanted to do was shield her and keep her locked away from the world while she was in this state. For once in his life, someone needed him and even though Mel’s state made J. D. pained and wishing for her to gain back her strength and moxy, the fact that she was dependent on him only made her that more precious and him even more desperate to keep her in his sights. Maybe it untapped some sort of masculine ego trip or maybe it was just because protecting her gave him an excuse (at least in his mind) to take such extreme measures. Whatever it was, J. D. just couldn’t hold back the floodgates.

“Mel, let’s go somewhere. If you’re worried about how it’ll look, don’t. I heard Sheila, I know she won’t mind, and Gary’s been warming up to me since he’s seen how good I’ve taken care of you. They’ll understand, and who cares what anyone else here thinks? I don’t. You were right, I only really care what you think Mel. Ever since the day we met…”

J. D. held her limp body; his smile was so unsure and timid, yet filled with warmth all the same. He felt like a child again, innocent and fragile, but hopeful even if deep down he knew his soul was most likely damned to hell already, if there was one. And it was all because of her.

“I knew it and I think you did too. Everything I’ve been through, it was all so I could meet you and appreciate the kind of person you are, and not take it for granted. I was alone for such a long time Mel, but I get it now. I was meant to be yours. I was meant for this…we were meant for this. So please, believe in me. Don’t leave me alone.”

J. D. watched her for some reaction, listened for the beginning of a sentence, but nothing came. Her breathing wasn’t audible. All he could hear was the song coming to a close.

_"You keep it up, you try so hard, to keep a life from coming apart...~"_

“Mel? Mel?”

J. D. raised her chin so he could see her face; her body was slack and her eyes were closed shut.

“Mel?!”


	27. The Damage is Done

**Author's Note: Fucked up mature content ahead!**

September 1st, 1989: Jason Dean walked into Sherwood, Ohio’s 7-Eleven for his customary slushie fix only to find a young woman dancing like a fool to Billy Joel as she cleaned the sticky floors of his favorite store chain.

The first day of school seemed to go on forever. The same classes, the same subjects, and worse of all, the same people, even if the names and faces were different. At first glance, Mel wasn’t cut from the same cloth from the other residents, at least from what J. D.could tell. At the very least, she was a relatively friendly face in a backwoods hick town, someone J. D. could have a brief conversation with in the daily dash for snacks before his old man decided to drag him off to another place he didn’t belong.

It wasn’t until that night when Mel had taken him in two months ago that J. D. felt he belonged somewhere. It was such a beautiful thing, to not feel alone anymore.

And how long had it even taken him to fall for her? A couple days? The night she had brought him to her house? Just two months ago they were strangers, yet now J. D. couldn’t imagine life without her. In that two month time span, he had marked himself for her, had lied, threatened, and killed for what he perceived as her sake. Yet with this unearthed cruelty and disregard for human life, J. D. had also opened his heart and soul to her more than he had ever to anyone, more than he ever believed he could. For the first time in his life, J. D. had known what it felt like to be protected and to want to protect and for two months he had worshipped her and she didn’t even realize it.

But two months ago, Mel was happy.

As J. D. sat at her bedside and looked down at her sickly pale skin and held her bony hand, he could hardly believe the woman who had torn down his walls and wormed her way into his heart was the same person in front of him now.

Gary and Sheila had met him at the hospital, holding each other as they waited for the okay from the staff to go into Mel’s room; the ambulance J. D. called had immediately taken her to the ER. The paramedics had managed to keep her breathing, but it had been hours since then and Mel showed no signs of regaining consciousness. From what they could garner from her condition and J. D.’s testimony of the past month, Mel had most likely fainted from a mix of exhaustion, stress, malnutrition, and pain; her condition had simply taken its toll. The doctor spent a good deal of time reassuring a ragged Sheila and a desolate Gary that Mel would be okay; J. D. had not spoken a word since explaining what had happened to both them and the doctor. He sat in a waiting chair, drained and head full of cotton, their conversation barely registering in his mind, even as they addressed him.

“You did the right thing calling the ambulance. A lot of people might have panicked.” Sheila sat on his right; J. D. vaguely felt a hand brush back his hair, but he couldn’t bring himself to look up.

“We shouldn’t have left her there alone. We should have made her go to the hospital sooner, before this happened.” Gary was hunched over on his wife’s other side, hands limp in his lap, face drawn in deep worry lines. “Not left it up to a kid.”

“J. D. did just what he was supposed to do and more.” Sheila spoke calmly but firmly; her eyes were still stinging red.

“I’m not blaming him. I’m saying he shouldn’t be responsible for Laney when she’s like this. We should have-”

“You stop that. There’s no point saying things like that now; we know what we have to do from this point on. We can’t-”

Gary let his face drop into his hands and Sheila immediately put a hand on his knee and kept silent as he tried to pull himself together. J. D. felt funny. He had never seen a grown man cry before, and definitely not in public. He felt slight embarrassment and kept his eyes to the ground.

“J. D., thank you. Don’t worry sweetpea, Mel will be okay. Everything will be okay.”

J. D. bowed his head and stared down at Mel’s hand in his. _“No. It won’t be.”_

Her nails were bare and the fingers stick thin. He couldn’t remember the last time she had used nail polish or lip gloss or even smiled for much longer than a few seconds. How long would he have to wait, how much more would he have to do to make her smile again?

Gary and Sheila had gotten done telling him what the next step would be. Once Mel was allowed to leave the hospital, they were going to have her live with them until she recovered. At this moment as J. D. silently begged for Mel to wake up, Gary had gone to her house to pack some essentials for her stay; Sheila had gently explained to J. D. that it wasn’t fair if he had to assume the responsibility of Mel’s caregiver when he himself was just a teenager. She told him he should be focusing on school and enjoying himself, and he had enough to worry about with the situation with his father.

_“How can they do this? How can they take you away from me? We just started living together.”_

J. D. could hardly believe he would be going home to an empty house once more; it wasn’t fair.

“Are you going to be okay sweetie?”

The nurse’s aid was done writing up Mel’s heart rate and setting up her IV; she had been glancing at J. D. with a stare full of heartfelt sympathy and slight surprise. He imagined she must have been taken off guard at the show of genuine emotion from a teenage boy.

“Yeah.”

She looked at her watch briefly. “I don’t know when she’ll be up. You should go home and rest.”

“I don’t think I could if I tried.”

She bit her lip and glanced at the time once more. “Well...I’ll leave you to it.”

J. D. nodded and summoned a slight smile of gratitude; the nurse aid pulled the curtain closed, though seeing as Mel was the only patient occupying the room, it was hardly necessary. Perhaps he looked ready to cry and she wanted to give him privacy, though J. D. honestly didn’t feel on the verge of tears. He couldn’t even feel that angry or upset or much of anything. The most prominent emotion he could express in that moment was a desolation. Everything he had been working up to until this point was being chipped away at.

_“Her last name is Olivier. Melanie Olivier.”_

J. D. ears had pricked like a dogs when he had heard the doctor speak with Sheila and Gary concerning Mel’s state; he had addressed her as Ms. Olivier. J. D. had to keep listening to where the conversation was headed before he could understand who they were speaking of.

In two months he had internally given her everything, had done so much and hurt so many people for the sake of their future, but it had never crossed J. D.’s mind to ask her last name.

“So what?”

J. D. laughed softly and placed Mel’s hand to her side under the covers; her skin felt cold, the hospital being sterilized and chilled for purposes he didn’t care to think of. All Mel had to keep her warm was the blanket and a thin paper gown that pretty much only provided cover to her front; how did they expect her to get better when she might as well be freezing?

“So what if I didn’t know her last name? It doesn’t matter. A rose by any other name, right?

J. D.’s fingers went to her cheek. He doubted in the real world a kiss of true love ever did much good for anyone, let alone make miracles like waking up the ill come true. The stuff of fairy tales was just that; stories to give people comfort in a world that had it in worryingly short supply. J. D. always felt a sort of disdainful pity for people who believed wholeheartedly in happy endings and miracles, almost as much as he envied them.

“Fuck it.”

Her lips were also cold. Cold and unmoving, even against his own warm ones. Her breathing didn’t so much as falter or quicken as J. D. pulled back and her eyelids certainly didn’t flutter to open and gaze up at him with vague confusion and fondness at seeing his face.

The door was closed shut and the curtains drawn closed; the doctor nor the aids were going to be seeing to Mel for at least another hour now that her condition had stabilized and there was no chance of her slipping away.

The air conditioning that had been working too well before wasn’t serving its purpose as well; in the last two minutes, J. D. felt a sheen of sweat over his forehead and a burning sensation in his stomach as he slowly made to half lie at the foot of the bed. He waited five minutes before using his hands to part Mel’s legs and another ten before pushing his face in between her thighs. He assumed the nurse must have had to remove her underwear at some point to clean her, but his brain couldn’t give this much thought.

Mel was still out cold from what J. D. could tell from her deep, slow breaths; even if someone were to come in, J. D. could easily sit up at the edge of the bed, pulling the blanket back down over her legs.

He had wanted to taste her for a long time now.

“They won’t separate us. I won’t let them. Who gives a shit if I didn’t know your last name? I know you love me too. It’s this town, these fucking people.”

J. D. used the tip of his finger to prod up and rub against her clit with feather light strokes; he watched transfixed as she began to glisten. With a soft moan he inhaled her scent that only grew stronger the more he rubbed; he wouldn’t penetrate her though, no matter how soft she looked inside. He wanted to save that for when she was awake, wanted to see her face when he took her for the first time. Their first time.

 _“That’s it, just want a quick taste…I can’t wait to be inside you baby...I don’t think I’ll be able to let you go after it...”_ J. D. kept his fingers from digging into her skin, careful not to leave any visible marks. The hospital staff wouldn’t understand if they saw any scratches or bite marks. They didn’t know how much she loved him, so much she’d open her house to him, so much she’d breathe new life into him and hold him in her warm arms and make him feel alive again.

It had crossed his mind how Mel would likely react should she wake up, but J. D. wasn’t worried. She might be a bit surprised, insist they stop because technically they were in a public area and could be caught any moment, but she’d never push him away. Still, she’d probably smack him once they were done; J. D. smiled at the thought of her being lively enough to scold him again, joking with him, singing, dancing, grinning, happy again, and he quickened the pace of his tongue on her clit.

_“I’ll won’t even touch myself Mel...this is all for you.”_

He didn’t care what he’d have to do. Helping arounds the house, getting a job, being the shoulder for her to cry on, even murder, he would do it. As long as it kept her his, he would do it.

 _“I bet that yuppie loser never did this to you, did he? He didn’t mean anything. You were lonely and you weren’t ready to be with me yet. He lied to you. They’re all against us Mel, I see that now more than ever. I’m the only one who can show you the truth, the only one who can make you happy…”_ he stifled a moan; she had whimpered so softly, he almost didn’t hear her. _“Fuck...I’m the only one who can make you this wet...”_

J. D. flattened his tongue and licked up and down, trying to get as much as he could and not waste a drop, making sure to clean any evidence that might tip off one of the staff that he hadn’t just been innocently watching over her. He couldn’t quite give a name to the admittedly strong taste. Not bitter, not quite salty, but not sweet, and the more he licked and explored, the more that came out for him to lap up. Her thighs were quivering, instinctively trying to close, trying to stop the sensation; he kept them apart, burying his face in and hoping she might be dreaming of him. He was sure she was close and it made him feel triumphant.

_“Of course you are. I’m sorry Mel. You got sick because of me. If I said something sooner, I could have been comforting you without reservation. I’ll make it up though.”_

Mel wouldn’t be able to walk for a whole other reason once she was up to snuff; as eager as he was, J. D. would make sure the first time would be perfect for her. Clean sheets, soft touches, protection, hell, he’d even spring for candles and roses if that was what she was into. He really couldn’t care less how or where they did it, just as long as he was the only one.

Right now he was desperate. The threat of losing Mel was so close, he ached to have her, but J. D. figured he could settle for making her cum on his tongue.

“Ah…”

J. D. stopped and he swore he would have jumped out of his skin if not for the fact that when he chanced to look, Mel’s eyes were still closed shut and her body still as a statue. Once he was certain she wasn’t awake, he continued to touch the spots he was almost sure would make her-

“Ah...ah…”

“That’s it….go on baby...I want to make you feel good…”

Mel’s voice was barely audible but her next word rang in J. D.’s ears until he thought he’d go deaf.

“D-Davis…”

With a muffled curse he sucked on her clit and swirled his tongue over the swollen nub until he felt her convulse and let out a light exhale. By now her legs were shaking, yet through some stroke of luck, Mel herself was fast asleep, most likely dreaming even now of her dead boyfriend. J. D. straightened out her gown and yanked the blankets back over her, only pausing to use the sink and some paper towels to rub his face raw.

_“She didn’t mean it. She didn’t.”_

“Sweetpea?”

J. D. rushed past the nurse aid, heart pounding, ears flooded with the sound of blood pumping through his brain; the world sounded funny, like he was under water, or like everyone else was in slow motion.

_“He must have done it to her before, so she thought it was him, it’s not like anyone else has ever done it to her. She didn’t mean it.”_

_“Keep telling yourself that, rebel with a screw loose.”_

J. D. refrained from snapping his neck to look at Heather Chandler’s sneering face as she walked next to him through the hospital corridor; her feet didn’t make a sound and the bloody, oozing hole in the side of her head suggested there was no way she was actually there and taunting him, but J. D. wasn’t in the most rational state as he tore through to the entrance.

_“Fuck off.”_

_“Oooh, where’s all the clever quips? Are you cranky because your crush doesn’t like you back?”_ Heather’s tone was decidedly more disgusted than mocking. _“God, I hope you rot. Freak.”_

 _“Dude, he got to, like, third base! In a hospital!”_ Kurt Kelly trotted over in his tighty whities; he and Ram Sweeney’s bullet wounds somehow looked even fresher than Heather’s.

 _“Must be nice.”_ Ram flipped J. D. off as he quickened his pace. _“We never even got to double stuff a chick. Thanks a lot dick.”_

_“You’re welcome.”_

_“God, you’d think being dead wouldn’t kill off more of your brain cells.”_ Heather shot at the two former football stars. _“Will you two go fuck off? You’re barely involved in this.”_

_“Hey, we got killed too!”_

_“Yeah, and we never got to score!”_

Heather turned her glare back on J. D. as Kurt and Ram began to bemoan all the hot tail they missed out on.

 _“And you’re worse than these pricks.”_ she laughed derisively. _“You actually think you’re better, but you didn’t even know her last name?! Now that’s a joke.”_

_“It doesn’t matter. I love Mel.”_

_“Yeah, making her life hell and getting her stressed enough to almost turn into a alcoholic headcase. How very. Why not just poison her for real when you get the chance?”_

_“Shut up.”_

_“That’s what you’ll do, isn’t it?”_

_“Shut up!”_

J. D. wanted to reach out and strangle the older man, but he knew it would be of no use. Just like the others, Davis was as dead as a doornail.

_“What happens if Melanie doesn’t do what you want? Will you dispose of her too?”_

_“You weren’t good for her. She never would have-Mel doesn’t need people like you in her life.”_

Davis strolled along side J. D. with a impassive expression on his bloodied and half melted face; it was satisfying to see him messed up. Mel wouldn’t look twice at him if she saw Davis now.

_“So cold blooded murderers are her type? I wouldn’t have guessed.”_

_“I did what needed to be done.”_

_“You did what you wanted. You don’t care if Mel is happy. You want her to be happy with you; she’s little more than a tool you’ve claimed so you can make your own life a little less miserable.”_

_“That’s bullshit!”_

J. D. closed his eyes tight, hands clenched in his coat pockets as he ran out into the cold night air, past the parking lot, past the main street, yet he couldn’t seem to shake them off.

_“It’s not too late. Do the right thing.”_

Heather snorted. _“Yeah, go take a swan dive off the roof.”_

_“Melanie deserves more than this. This is wrong.”_

_“You know what, you’re just peeved because she always wanted me! She settled for you ‘cause she was scared.”_

Davis’ eye rolled in his socket and melted, trickling down his scorched cheek like the white of an egg. _“Is that why she-?”_

 

J. D. cut him off furiously. _“She didn’t mean it. She didn’t mean it, Mel doesn’t know what she’s saying, she’s not even awake,_ so **shut up, she didn’t fucking mean it!”**

J. D. fell to his knees in the middle of the cemetery, his fist crashing down on the hard dirt. He screwed his eyes up tight and gripped the sides of his head; he doubled over and tried to just breathe. The voices were silent. All he could hear was the faint sounds of a bird in the distance and the thin branches of the bare trees knocking against each other in the wind. J. D. tugged his hair so hard he thought it would rip out by the roots; his knees were already beginning to bruise against the icy ground.

The only person who could make him feel a little less broken, a little less damaged inside had betrayed him.

_“No. They’re all wrong. Once she’s up and settled at Sheila’s place, I’ll go visit her.”_

The taste of her was still on his tongue and the warmth of her skin was pulsing under his fingers like she was still under him; it was him that had made her feel good, even if she didn’t know it. J. D. never did get Mel’s answer to his confession; he would go over to talk to her himself and get everything cleared up.

He smiled and licked his lips, trying to remember where Mel had hidden the gun he bought her.


End file.
